


When the Past Comes Back to Haunt Us

by Eliiander



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: First Time, Hurt Shawn, Kidnapping, M/M, Mention of Suicidal thought, Rape, Shassie, graphic description of rape, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliiander/pseuds/Eliiander
Summary: When someone from Carlton's past suddenly resurfaces, Shawn finds himself in the sights of a psychopath.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 24
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Legalities: I don't own Psych or any characters of the show or any of the ideas from their episodes
> 
> Now: I've done a large part of the re-write on this work. There are still some chapters to be added, but the original chapters have all been updated. In listening to the comment received on the original work, I'm trying to make it...I guess a little more realistic? I really didn't mean for Lassie to wind up being so brainwashed by the character from his past, but hopefully I added enough in that it's understood it's only this person that affects him that way. Anybody else that would try that any of that with him would find themselves six feet under...fast.
> 
> Okay, so this isn't my best work. At least I don't feel like it is. It's passable and hopefully some of you will like it. It was built around a two page short scene that I had running around in my head. There are some pretty graphic descriptions in here in the later chapters, just as a warning.

Shawn Spencer raised his right hand to his head, letting his breath come in short gasping hitches as his current “psychic vision” caused him to stagger ever so slightly. Even with his eyes closed he knew he had the full attention of everyone in the office. Before he had started his performance and squeezed his eyes shut, he had seen Juliet sitting in front of the Chief’s desk, her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes wide. Chief Vick was seated behind her desk, brows drawn together as she watched Shawn. Her expression held the same sternness that Shawn imagined every nun in every Catholic school might have when watching their students. Carlton was seated on the small couch that sat along the wall behind Shawn’s current position; the perfect place for the vision Shawn was about to have. Last among the group was Gus. Gus was watching him with the perfect expression of surprise, but the faux psychic could see he was waiting for any cues Shawn might give him that would indicate he was needed for this vision and what to do if he was needed. This time, though, Shawn didn’t need the assistance of his oldest and closest friend.

“I see…” Shawn cried loudly, scrunching his face up as if he were trying to focus, “I see numbers! And letters!” he paused, staggering in apparent disorientation. In truth, his ‘random’ movements took him to exactly where he needed to be, “But they’re…they’re so blurry!” Flinging his arm back, he felt his hand touch the side of Carlton’s face.

As expected, Carlton grabbed his hand, bending his wrist down until sharp pain raced up his arm (not expected at all) and growled, “Get your grimy paws off me!”

Ignoring the pain and warning, he vaulted into Carlton’s lap, all but wrapping himself around that lean frame, “Yes! Much clearer!” He cried, “6…7…4…H…R…B!”

He had barely gotten the “B” out before Carlton bolted to his feet, his face a mask of rage. “Get the hell off me, Spencer!” He roared, and as Shawn tumbled away from him and down towards the floor, Carlton gave an almost savage yank to the wrist.

The yank, completely unanticipated, combined with the angle of Shawn’s falling body caused an almost sickening bolt of pain to wash through his wrist. His yelp was genuine this time as he felt his wrist pop. Landing on the floor and cradling his wrist, he watched as several things happened almost simultaneously.

Chief Vick rose from her chair barking, “Detective Lassiter!”

Carlton stormed out of the office yelling, “I refuse to be a prop in this idiot’s parlor games!”

Juliet and Gus both moved toward Shawn, dropping to their knees next to him.

“Are you okay, Shawn?” Juliet asked as Gus picked up his injured wrist to examine it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shawn replied, trying not to wince as Gus experimentally flexed his wrist up and down. “Good as gold, Jules.” He pulled his hand away from Gus before his friend made him yelp again. “It’s not broken, Gus.”

“Mr. Spencer,” Chief Vick said as Shawn crawled to his feet, “Let me apologize on behalf of the department for Det. Lassiter’s actions.”

Shawn waved her off, “The spirits tell me he spilled coffee all over his pants on the way to work. Nobody likes to look like they peed their pants first thing in the morning.”

Even as he was disarming Chief Vick though, a part of Shawn’s attention was on Carlton. Although many of their altercations got quite physical, Carlton had never intentionally tried to seriously hurt him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Carlton grab his suit coat and storm out of the precinct.

Deciding he could figure out what was wrong with Carlton later, Shawn refocused on his audience in the office. “Did anyone write that stuff down? I’m afraid the spirits decided to go somewhere without so much hostility.”

Juliet picked up a piece of paper off the Chief’s desk, “674HRB.” She looked at it a moment with a furrowed brow, “But what do they mean?”

Shawn caught Gus’s eye, telling him without words to take over the charade. Gus dutifully walked over to Juliet and peered over her shoulder at the paper. Shawn saw the light touch Gus gave to Juliet’s lower back and wondered how long Gus could keep the fact they were dating away from him. He’d figured it out a few weeks ago and he was actually a little impressed that Gus had managed to keep it a secret this long.

“674HRB.” Gus read, seeming to puzzle over it as Shawn sat down on the now empty couch, “Hey, what if it’s backwards? BRH476 looks like a license plate number.”

“Gus!” Shawn exclaimed jumping up, “That’s it! The spirits must have gotten confused being in such close proximity to Lassie’s negativity.”

“You’re right.” Juliet said excitedly, “I’ll go run this through the DMV and see what comes up.”

She immediately left the office and went to her desk. Shawn saw her begin tapping on her keyboard almost immediately.

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer. Mr. Guster.” The Chief said.

Shawn recognized that they were being dismissed and said, “I’m starved, Gus. All this communing with the spirits is very hard on the stomach. Maki’s Taki Tacos?”

Gus was already headed out the door, “You know that’s right.”

Shawn followed Gus out of the office, taking a look at Carlton’s desk as they walked by. Several files were laying hap-hazardly across his desk blotter. One of them was the current case they were working on involving a string of home invasions on the south end of town. The other two were old cases that Carlton had testified in court to the week before.

In addition to the files, there were three pieces of paper littered with Carlton’s neat, narrow handwriting. There was a phone number on one of them, underlined once, and various notes that didn’t seem very nefarious at first glance. Carlton’s #1 COP coffee mug set off to the side almost three quarters full of coffee.

The one thing about the entire scene was the disorganized way everything was laying there. In the normal world, the world where Carlton growled and made a lot of noise but would never actually try and hurt Shawn, the files would be stacked neatly. The pieces of paper would be stacked together on the right side of the desk blotter. Most of all, however, the #1 COP coffee mug would not be sitting there with left over coffee in it. It would be cleaned and put away where Carlton kept it by the coffee maker.

Shawn had processed this information in the second or so it took him to walk by Carlton’s desk. To any one besides Gus and his Dad, Henry, the casual glance he tossed at the desk would have been nothing more than that, and as such, no one gave him a second look.

“Dude,” Shawn said quietly as he caught up with Gus, “Something’s up with Lassie.”

“Oh?” Gus replied sarcastically, “What was your first clue? When he tried to break your wrist?”

“No, I’m serious, Gus. Did you see his desk? It’s a veritable shambles compared to normal.”

“Big deal.” Gus replied as they gained the sunshine outside of the precinct, “Maybe he hasn’t been down at the gun range enough this week.”

Shawn’s eyes cut almost automatically to Carlton’s parking spot. The Crown Vic was nowhere to be seen but there were patches of rubber on the asphalt indicating he had left in a hurry. Shawn frowned as he got in the Blueberry with Gus. He flashed back to the expression on Carlton’s face when he had dumped Shawn to the floor. There was anger there, certainly. But there was something in his eyes that Shawn had trouble identifying. It almost looked like the fear that he had glimpsed on Carlton’s face during the Yang case. And even then, it had been well hidden.

“After lunch, I gotta go finish my route for this week.” Gus said, pulling out into traffic.

“You can drop me off at the office.” Shawn said, “I’m going to grab a quick siesta. All the communicating with the spirits made me tired.”

“Ha.” Gus snorted derisively, “Staying up until five o’ clock this morning made you tired.”

“Well, that’s what happens when they run a Facts of Life marathon, Gus.” Shawn replied in an overly exaggerated tone of patience, “Tootie is just so darn adorable.”

Gus snorted again but said nothing. Shawn leaned back in the passenger seat, glancing at the passenger side mirror as he did. Four car lengths back he noticed a dark grey Ford Focus. He recognized it almost immediately by the yellow duct tape that was holding the driver’s side headlight in place. He had seen it behind him on more than one occasion in the last week or so. It had never been closer than it was now and sometimes was seven or eight cars back, but the yellow duct tape always gave it away. Shawn had been curious about it, but the driver had never approached him, his bike had never been messed with and so far as he could tell, no one aside from him and Gus had been in the office or his apartment. So, although his curiosity had been aroused, he had let it go, deciding to see where the little game was going to take him. Although he had intentionally taken some very indirect routes to a few of the places he’d gone just to see what would happen. Each time he had done that, the car had left off the chase, disappearing into normal traffic.

“Dude.” He finally said to Gus, “You’re being followed.”

“No, I’m not.” Gus said with a tsk.

“Notice the dark grey Ford Focus back there with the yellow duct tape?”

Gus’s eyes flicked to his rear-view before returning to the road in front of him, “What about it?”

“Is this the first time you’ve ever seen it?” Shawn asked.

“Yeah, why?” Gus said.

“Huh.” Shawn mused, “Must be that it’s just following me then.”

“Shawn, did you sleep with somebody that has some crazy ex again?” Gus snapped.

“No, Gus.” Shawn replied in an offended tone, “You know that whole thing with Tony was bad luck. I’m usually very selective when…”

“Stop!” Gus exclaimed holding a hand up toward Shawn, “You know the deal. No details.”

“Oh, relax.” Shawn said, “I wasn’t going to give any details. Geez, Gus. Don’t be such a Mother Superior with Whoopi Goldberg around.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Gus asked.

Shawn looked in the mirror again, considering for a moment. He supposed at some point he would have to figure out what the joker in the car wanted, but for now, he didn’t feel like playing, so he said, “Nothing, Gus. Except get some Maki’s Taki Tacos.”

Gus glanced at him and then shrugged. The shrug said _Whatever, Shawn_.

A few minutes later, he turned into Maki’s parking lot. Shawn watched the Focus cruise by, but he still couldn’t get a look at the driver.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlton remembers the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The background chapter needed to understand what's wrong with Lassie

Carlton sat by himself on the bench overlooking the ocean. It was the perfect Santa Barbara day. The sun was warm but not hot and it reflected off of the ocean like diamonds. There were surprisingly few people camped out on the sand down by the beach. There was a couple mother’s working on their tan as their kids played at the very edge where the ocean waves met the sandy coastline. A couple groups of teenagers were partying around their campfires, but at this time of the day, the parties were relatively subdued.

Carlton didn’t see any of those things. He didn’t notice the azure blue of the water as it stretched out to meet the horizon. He stared across the water, thinking. He knew he had really hurt Shawn when he snapped his wrist down and part of him felt extremely bad for doing it. He had been rough with Shawn in the past but had never actually hurt him. His nerves had just been ratcheted up so much since he had received the first note a week ago that it had just…happened.

He sighed to himself. Had he truly thought that Eric was out of his life forever? When there had been no word from him after Carlton had married Victoria, he honestly did think that he would finally be left alone, that he would be able to stop paying for what had happened almost a decade earlier. But after the divorce, when things started to get serious between himself and Harold…

But Carlton didn’t want to think about Harold. He didn’t want to think about Eric. And he certainly didn’t want to think about Robert. To think about it, he would have to relive some of those old nightmares. As much as he didn’t want to, however, the thoughts came and he could feel that same old fear start kicking up, cinching around his heart like a vice. He didn’t know what Eric’s game was this time around. He was sure he was going to find out soon enough, but the idea of facing the narcistic lunatic again was something Carlton could barely stomach. The person he had been when he was with Eric was a person he never wanted to be again. And he told himself over and over that he _wouldn’t_ be that person. He told himself he had it under control.

He didn’t have it under control and he knew it.

Carlton briefly noticed one of the sunbathing mothers as she began to pack all of her stuff into a tote and call for her little boy. It made him consider the naivety of youth. When you were young, your parents took care of everything for you. You had no idea that out in the much bigger world, people hurt people just for the sheer fun of it; degraded them because they could; messed with their mind until they were on the verge of breaking.

Part of him knew he should have gone to the Chief as soon as he had gotten the first note. But he found that he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want anyone to know about his past. Hell, he didn’t want to know about his past, at least this part of it. Unfortunately, just telling yourself to forget something worked about as well as trying to keep ice-cream from melting in hundred-degree heat.

Carlton had not had a lot of experience with relationships when he had left for college. Well, perhaps no experience would cover it better. He had been the gangly dorky kid in high school. The one the girls always laughed at and the boys made the butt end of their jokes and pranks. And to make matters worse, he had felt such a confusion of emotions when he began to realize he liked the boys a little bit better than the girls. Without a father to guide him through some of those confused emotions, he was left to fend for himself.

After watching several members of the football team beat up Stewart Martell because they found out he was gay, Carlton knew better than to act on any of the feelings he may have had for anyone of the same sex. And since none of the girls ever showed an iota of interest in him, he never dated. Until Eric.

He had met Eric at the campus coffee shop. He’d needed a little extra cashflow and the coffee house was hiring for part-time help. Eric had started coming in pretty regularly. Regularly enough that Carlton knew his order by heart and would often have it ready for him before he even got to the counter. Without experience in the world of romance, Carlton had been completely oblivious to the fact that Eric was flirting with him. In fact, it wasn’t until Eric put aside all pretense and outright asked him if he’d like to have dinner sometime that Carlton even realized Eric was interested in him.

Carlton remembered that first rush of disbelieving anxiety as he looked across the counter into Eric’s jade eyes. He remembered how that color had nearly took his breath away as Eric had looked at him, smiling that completely disarming smile. It was those same jade eyes that had looked at Carlton with pitiless masochistic intent later in the relationship. But at the time they seemed so warm and open that Carlton couldn’t look away as butterflies fluttered through his stomach. He had agreed to dinner before he even realized it.

The dinner had led to Eric’s bed. Carlton remembered how gentle Eric had been that night, how softly he had spoken to him. He told him how handsome he was and how he had wanted him since the first time he had seen him working in that coffee shop. Each new praise had sent a new swarm of butterflies cascading through Carlton’s stomach. And when Eric had brought him to his climax, the world had actually whited out briefly in the ecstasy of the moment.

The relationship had grown from there. Carlton had become hopelessly in love. And even when the relationship started taking a decidedly darker turn, he hadn’t seen it. He wanted to please Eric. And he wanted to please him so badly that he overlooked the occasional strike from Eric’s fist.

Carlton squeezed his eyes shut as the shame of what that relationship had turned into burned through him. His hands curled into tight fists as the memories flooded through despite his efforts to stop them. The fists that struck him with ever-increasing tendencies, the sex that had turned from something so beautiful and loving to something so degrading and outright painful. Eric’s sadomasochistic needs had grown exponentially and Carlton had simply taken it.

Carlton shook his head. He had taken advance psychology and abnormal psychology. He was studying to go into law enforcement. He didn’t understand how he could have been that stupid. Nor did he understand why he couldn’t, even now, stand up to Eric. Knowing he was out there, watching him again, should have sparked rage. He should want to kill Eric for all the things he had done to him, to people he cared about. But there was no rage. Only the core-deep shame and humiliation…and fear. He didn’t feel love toward him anymore. Thank God for that much. But he couldn’t break away enough to be able to go to the Chief and tell her what was going on.

And then there was Shawn

He told himself he was not attracted to the faux psychic. He let himself show only anger and contempt towards him. And he did it because there was no telling what Eric would do if he discovered Carlton was attracted to someone again. Carlton already had the fate of two ex-lovers on his hands. He wasn’t going to make it three. And if that meant he had to be a little more forceful with Shawn during his so-called “psychic visions” he had, then so be it.

He told himself that Eric was only making his presence known to let Carlton know that he was still watching him. He told himself that there was no way that Eric could know he was attracted to Shawn, because he barely admitted it to himself. He kept that feeling buried so deep that it never saw the light of day. The only option he had if he didn’t believe these things was to explain everything to Shawn. He was sure Eric would stalk him for a little while and then disappear back to wherever he went when he wasn’t tormenting Carlton.

Still, it was probably for the best if he just avoided being around Shawn at all right now.


	3. Chapter Three

After lunch, Gus dropped Shawn off at the Psych office, but Shawn didn’t lay down to take a nap. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and his binoculars and went out to his bike. His destination was Carlton’s and since his bike wasn’t the most inconspicuous thing in the world, he knew he would have to park a few blocks away. He had a feeling that if Carlton even heard him drive by today, he’d blow a gasket. After that little episode in the Chief’s office, he wasn’t keen on letting Carlton know he was anywhere near his house. But he needed to find out what was wrong.

Shawn was worried about Carlton because he liked the Head Detective. And not in the same way he liked Gus or Juliet. It had taken him a little while to realize it. He had known from the first time he saw him in that interrogation room trying to get him to confess to the stereo robberies that he was attracted to the tall, lanky man with those breathtakingly blue eyes. The way his jaw had clenched as he chewed his gum had damn near driven Shawn wild. He would have been more than happy to let Carlton take him right there in the interrogation room. But the more he had worked with Carlton, the more he realized the attraction was more than just physical. He was smart and confident in what he wanted in life. He actually challenged Shawn to perform better just to try and stay a step ahead of him. Shawn eventually had to admit he liked Carlton enough to actually border on the “L” word that he had sworn he would never say.

He had, of course, admitted this to no one except Gus, who had nearly spit out the margarita he was drinking.

“Do you have some kind of death wish, Shawn?” He had demanded, and then immediately gulped the rest of his drink in one go.

“Oh, come on, Gus.” Shawn replied, “It’s not like I’m going to openly flirt with the guy.” He had grinned, “I’ve got the spirits to help me out there.”

“If you get us banned from consulting,” Gus had said, quickly ordering another drink, “I will have to kill you, Shawn.”

Shawn had laughed at that and that had been the last time they had talked about it. Gus was okay with Shawn being bi, but he didn’t want to be involved in the details.

True to his word, Shawn had not flirted with Carlton. But he had managed to touch him an awful lot thanks to the help from the “spirits”. Most of the time Carlton got a little rough with him and Shawn was okay with that, because the times he wasn’t more than made up for it. The first time he had sat in Carlton’s lap, and he hadn’t immediately told Shawn to get off…those few moments had been positively glorious.

Focusing on the present, Shawn started his bike and headed towards Carlton’s house. Traffic was relatively light and a little over ten minutes later he was pulling into the parking lot of a bar that hadn’t opened for the night yet. The bar was about three blocks from Carlton’s house. He had used it the last time he had been by the area (not stalking, just practicing things his Dad had taught him). At the time, the house to the east of Carlton’s house had been vacant with a For Sale sign in the front yard. The house to the west had been occupied by an elderly couple, both of whom were hard of hearing and didn’t see well.

Shawn smiled to himself as he parked the bike and locked the helmet into place. During his last visit, he had discovered the elderly couple and their aged hearing and eyesight because he had watched Carlton help the old woman get her laundry down off the clothesline just ahead of a torrential downpour. When the Head Detective had spoken to her it was in the raised voice of someone speaking to someone that’s hard of hearing. The husband had been on the back porch telling his wife to be careful and not hurry because, “You know you don’t see as well as you used to and I don’t want you to trip.”

Carlton had shooed the woman into the house as he finished taking down the last of the clothes and she had joined her husband reminding him that he didn’t see any better than she did. Carlton had gotten the laundry under the roof of the back porch just as the rain had cut loose and when he spoke to the husband it was in that same raised voice. The wife had given Carlton a peck on the cheek saying what a good neighbor he was and how much they appreciated him.

Shawn had gotten soaked to the skin during that little outing, but seeing the unstudied kindness Carlton had shown the old woman had more than made up for it. The easy, honest smile he had flashed her when she had given him that little peck and thanked him was so different from the persona he exhibited at the station. It had nudged Shawn even closer to that “L” word.

Shawn was suddenly pulled from his reverie when he noticed the dark grey Ford Focus parked along the curb on the block behind Carlton’s house. The headlight was taped with yellow duct tape. Shawn slowed his pace and looked around the tree-lined street. A couple houses down, two kids were playing catch with a football, but other than that the street was empty.

Keeping watch around him, Shawn veered toward the curb and discretely checked the passenger door of the Focus. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He quickly opened the door and slid into the seat, quietly shutting the door again. After glancing around the outside to make sure no one had suddenly appeared, he turned his attention to the inside of the car.

He had never seen the interior of a car as clean as this one was. Even Gus, who constantly cleared the Blueberry because it was a company car (as he so often reminded Shawn) couldn’t hold a candle to the owner of this car. Shawn flipped down each visor and found nothing stashed there. He checked the center console between the seats finding it completely empty. Even the glove box held absolutely nothing.

“That’s wierdsville.” Shawn said, speaking to himself, “No proof of insurance, no registration. Nothing.”

He glanced in the backseat, but there was nothing there. The fabric on the seats almost looked brand new as if nothing or no one had ever been back there. The only thing Shawn could see in the car that wasn’t actually a part of the car was the little air freshener that was clipped to the passenger side vent.

Perplexed, Shawn got out of the car, eased the door shut, and continued on his way to his destination. The backyard that belonged to the elderly couple had a flower garden that had at one time been lovely and well-tended. Now, it was simply an explosion of color that had been left to its own devices for far too long. Everything had grown together, creating a riotous display that could be hard on the eyes if one looked at it for too long.

_If I had my Dad’s Hawaiian shirt, I’d totally blend in_ Shawn thought randomly as he ducked into the foliage.

From his covered vantage point, Shawn could see Carlton’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He briefly considered going inside to see if he could find any clues to Carlton’s odd behavior. He quickly nixed the idea however. There were guns stashed all over that house and Shawn wasn’t entirely sure Carlton wouldn’t decide to use one on him if he failed to hear him come home.

As he was watching and waiting for Carlton to come home, he checked the field settings on his binoculars. After making some minor adjustments, he was able to see in at least one window in each room on the ground floor; two in the kitchen and living room. Hopefully, when Carlton came home, Shawn would be able to see something that might explain some things. He wasn’t sure exactly what, just something.

His mind returned to the Focus. He found it extremely troublesome that the same car he’d seen following him sporadically in the last few days suddenly showed up a block from Carlton’s house. If Gus was right and it really hadn’t followed him at all, Shawn could only assume it really was just following him. And maybe Carlton. Or maybe…

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Juliet

_The spirits demanded I ask you if you’ve noticed a grey Ford Focus with yellow duct tape on the driver’s side headlight anywhere around you lately_.

He waited for an answer while keeping an eye on Carlton’s house. It remained quiet and he suddenly remembered how much he hated stakeouts. They were boring when the object of said stakeout was nowhere around. He tried to stay still but it didn’t work any better than it did when his Dad would take him out for “training” stakeouts. In very short order, he was doing the only thing he could do that wouldn’t give away his position: wriggling his toes and tapping his fingers lightly one at a time against his leg, letting his mind spout useless trivia each time a finger touched his leg.

He had just started listing all of the ‘Miami Vice’ episodes he’d ever watched with a synopsis for each one when his phone alerted with Juliet’s text tone. He almost fumbled it getting it out of his pocket. He could have sworn it was on vibrate. He cut off the tone, currently the sound effects from ‘Wonder Woman’ when she would change into her super badass alter ego, and changed it to vibrate before reading the text.

_That’s funny. A couple days ago when Carlton and I were going to lunch. I remember because Carlton said he should give the driver a fix-it ticket. But then a car ran a red light and he pulled that guy over instead. Why?_

_Did you happen to see the driver?_

_No. Too far back. Why?_

He knew she would just keep asking why until he came up with something so he texted: _The spirits say the driver is a Jehovah’s Witness targeting police detectives and you should avoid them at all costs._

_Ha Ha. Seriously what’s up?_

He sighed: _To be honest I don’t know. The spirits just ask me to do weird things sometimes. Then everything makes sense later._

_Whatever. I gotta go. I have a date._

_The spirits tell me you shouldn’t go anywhere there are bright lights over the tables. Your date used too much wax on his dome and the light will blind you._

There was no response to the last text. He pocketed his phone and considered what she had said. The only time she had noticed it was when she was with Carlton. And the car was parked in close proximity to Carlton’s house. It seemed his initial thought was correct. Whoever it was appeared to be only interested in Carlton and himself. But why? He tried to think of any cases that had been strictly the two of them but there was none that popped up. The only time they had divided the team up was when he and Juliet and went up against Carlton and Gus, which was a huge mistake anyway because Gus got Carlton interested in tap.

Deciding if it was still there when he left, he’d get the license plate number. Then, he turned his attention back to Carlton’s house.


	4. Chapter Four

Shawn finished listing all of the ‘Miami Vice’ episodes and started listing all of his favorite candy, which was a bad idea because it had been almost three whole hours since lunch, when he noticed a man approach Carlton’s house from the east. There was nothing overtly suspicious about him. He wasn’t slithering or slinking. He wasn’t casting furtive glances over his shoulder, or even rubbing his hands together and cackling like every villain in every B rated movie Shawn had ever seen. In fact, he looked quite confident and appeared to think he had every right to be there. But something about him triggered alarm bells in Shawn.

Raising his binoculars again, Shawn studied the man. He was as non-descript as they come, a little on the taller side with a slight build, sandy brown hair that was trimmed into a neat spike with matching goatee, and wearing jeans and a T-shirt with aviator style sunglasses to finish it out. He was so non-descript, in fact, that he could have blended into the background anywhere he chose to go, except maybe a renaissance fair. Shawn had been thrown out of one of those once wearing almost the exact same thing. Apparently, they only allowed period costumes in. Shawn’s argument was that he was dressed as an 80’s teenager and the 80’s were a period. It got him nowhere but out of the fair.

He focused on the man again, unsure why, exactly, he was triggering alarm bells as loudly as he was. In fact, he left Shawn feeling distinctly heebie-jeebie-ish. Looking at that perfectly non-descript guy sent an absolutely frigid chill down Shawn’s spine. He studied him intently through the binoculars trying to see what it was that was causing his extreme discomfiture. There just had to be something he was missing.

But there was nothing.

As the man walked up to Carlton’s porch, he reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a small envelope. Shawn’s binoculars weren’t strong enough to see if anything was written on it. He slid the envelope into Carlton’s mailbox without even looking around to see if he was being watched.

“That’s a federal offense, buddy.” Shawn whispered to himself, “And I ought to know. I job shadowed a mailman once for two weeks.”

Okay, so it had been a mail _woman_ and he was really only interested in playing in her mail bag, but still…

After dropping the envelope into the mailbox, the man turned around and walked away in the same direction he had come from, still showing no outward signs of skullduggery. In fact, he looked pretty damn casual. For several minutes after he had disappeared, Shawn debated on whether to go take a look at the envelope. It would be bad enough if Carlton come home to find him skulking around. If he came home to find him reading the mail…well the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius might only be considered a mild hiccup in comparison.

Shawn couldn’t help himself though and it wasn’t long before he was sprinting to Carlton’s front porch. His eyes and ears were on high alert for an approaching Crown Victoria. Once on the porch, he quickly reached into the mailbox and withdrew the envelope, being extremely careful to hold it by its edges. Speaking of federal offenses…

Being extremely careful to keep his fingers away from any flat surface to avoid leaving fingerprints on any part of the letter, Shawn managed to wrangle the letter out of the envelope and unfold it. Again, thank-you, Dad.

_Dearest Carlton,_

_I’m still here, Carlton. Can you feel me watching you? I bet you can. You know, I truly don’t understand why you feel the need to test me like you do. I’ve proven more than once what happens when you test me. You think you broke it off with me, but you didn’t. That’s my decision to make. Not yours. So, I’ll be seeing you soon, Carlton. That’s my promise to you, bitch._

_Eric_

Shawn felt his mouth come unhinged as he first read and then re-read the note, his mind trying to fully comprehend the implications those words represented. Very few things in the world caught him in flat-footed surprise, but this not only caught him by surprise, it picked him up and body slammed him. Could Carlton actually be gay? Or at the very least bi?

Shawn didn’t know how that could be. After all, he was a master at reading people. He figured out of everybody in their group, he probably knew Carlton better than anybody. Except maybe Juliet. As his partner there were likely some things he shared with her that he didn’t with anyone else. The more he thought about it however, the more he realized there were some assumptions he had made about that aspect of Carlton that could actually be wrong.

Truth: He had never seen Carlton out on a date with another guy. Also true, however, Carlton had been on dates that Shawn hadn’t tailed him on. It was also entirely possible that Carlton just hadn’t found anyone of the male persuasion he wanted to date. Because it was also true that Carlton had been married. So, either he was bi or he was gay and that’s why his marriage hadn’t worked.

Suddenly realizing he was standing like an idiot in front of Carlton’s house, holding a note meant for Carlton, Shawn began his retreat. He quickly put the note back in the envelope and put the envelope back into the mailbox. Taking a quick look around to make sure he was unobserved, he slipped back over to his hiding spot in the neighbor’s flower garden. Although it was pretty clear now what was wrong with Carlton, he wanted to observe what was going to happen when the Head Detective got home and found the note.

He found the waiting wasn’t as hard now. He had plenty to think about and he sifted through it piece by piece. The idea that Carlton might be gay, or at least bi, invigorated him to a point. Assuming Carlton was straight had kept Shawn’s antics mostly g-rated with an occasional PG-13 thrown in for good measure. Irritating Carlton during his “visions” was the most effective way he knew to get Carlton’s hands on him. They were pretty rough most of the time, but beggars can’t be choosers and Shawn took what he could get. He let his imagination take charge at night, changing those rough touches to something a little softer and much more intimate.

He wondered now how Carlton would react if Shawn was a little lass G and a little more R, with a tendency into X on occasion. He was sure he could pull it off without anybody but Carlton noticing. On the other hand, maybe Carlton really did hate him and all that roughness really was just Carlton trying to not actually kill him.

For some reason, that explanation didn’t quite sit right. There was one moment in time that made Shawn completely dismiss the idea that Carlton hated him. When Carlton had gotten his bike back for him, just before he had realized Shawn was standing there, he had been smiling. That smile had been a pleased, self-satisfied smile. You didn’t smile like that if you were forced to do something for someone you hated.

Shawn was still at his post five hours later, still contemplating what to do with the new information he had concerning Carlton. The sun had actually set over an hour before when the headlights from the Crown Vic swept across his hiding spot, temporarily blinding him. Sinking a little deeper into the screening foliage, Shawn waited to see what was going to happen.

The headlights blinked out and Shawn heard the engine cut as Carlton turned the car off. For a moment, all Shawn could see was green dots floating through his vision. He blinked rapidly and by the time the car door opened and Carlton stepped out, most of them had disappeared. Carlton shut the car door and went up the stairs to his front porch. Feeling his muscles tense, Shawn raised the binoculars and watched as Carlton opened the mailbox.

He withdrew the envelope and even in the darkness relieved only by the streetlamps, Shawn saw his face. He expected rage. What he saw was fear. Shawn saw Carlton’s hands shaking as he opened the envelope and pulled the note out. When he finished reading it, he crumpled it up, unlocked his door, and walked into the house.

Lights began going on in the house room by room and through the binoculars Shawn could see that Carlton was engaged in a complete search of the house, his gun out and ready. After each room had been cleared, Carlton sat down in the kitchen. He had retrieved a bottle of scotch and a glass and he sat there, sipping the scotch with his gun in arm’s reach.

After a moment, he put his face in his hands and just sat there. Shawn was suddenly possessed with the urge to text Carlton with a message about how the spirits were telling him that something was wrong and asking if everything was okay. He tried to talk himself out of it. He was sure Carlton would either ignore it or tell him to fuck off. But seeing Carlton sitting at the table like that got the best of him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Pulling up his texts with Carlton, he quickly typed in a message: _The spirits are worried, Lassie. They told me something is wrong at your house. Are you okay?_

His finger hovered over his phone as he debated. Should he allude to anything he had read in the note? He decided against it. Carlton never bought the whole psychic thing and if Shawn got too specific, Carlton might hunt him down and actually break his wrist.

He hit the send and then watched Carlton through the binoculars. Seconds later, he saw Carlton look at his phone. He expected to see a flash of anger or irritation when Carlton seen the text was from him. Instead, what he saw was that same fear that had dropped over Carlton’s face when he had seen the note. That fear just sat so completely wrong on the Head Detective that Shawn almost couldn’t stand it.

Carlton picked up his phone and read the text. For a long time, he just stared at his phone screen. Shawn waited, debating on sending another quick text, but opted not to this time. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Carlton’s fingers began to move across the face of the phone. When he finished, he put it down and then just stared at it.

Shawn felt his phone vibrate and he looked at the answer: _You need to stay away from me right now, Spencer. Please._

Shawn’s brow furrowed as he read the message, “Please?” he whispered to himself, “What?”

Even if ‘please’ was taken out of it, the wording bothered him. He couldn’t say exactly why. Part of it was that it lacked Carlton’s normal heat, but that wasn’t the entire reason. There was something about the way he had said ‘You need to’ instead of ‘Stay the hell away from me’.

For several long moments, Shawn considered knocking on Carlton’s door. Seeing Carlton sitting there just staring at his phone hit Shawn in a place he didn’t even know he had. Pocketing his phone, he continued to watch Carlton. He didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight. The way he read the note, this Eric fellow wasn’t going to show up now. The note was a cliched attempt at psychological warfare. His intent was to wait while Carlton squirmed. Up until this moment, Shawn would have laughed at that. Up until this moment, he hadn’t seen Carlton as a squirmer.

Instead of going to the door, he took his phone out again and texted: _Too late. The spirits already directed me here._

He sent it and waited. Carlton picked his phone up. The reaction Shawn expected wasn’t even remotely close to the reaction he got. Carlton bolted to his feet and very nearly ran through the house to the front door. Shawn couldn’t see him open it, but half a second later he was on the front porch and looking around in a manner that Shawn could only describe as frantic. After a few moments, Carlton raised his phone and texted.

Shawn looked at his phone as the text came through: _Where the hell are you Spencer?_

Deciding he wanted to live through the night after all, he answered: _Tom Blaire’s Pub. Isn’t that where u r?_

The effect of that text was just as surprising as everything else Shawn had witnessed this evening. Carlton read it and suddenly whipped around, winging his phone toward the house. By some miracle, the phone hit the cushion of the wicker chair that was sitting to one side of the door. It bounced away from the cushion and flew back in the same general direction he had thrown it from, landing somewhere on the porch. Shawn heard a faint clattering as it landed. Carlton bent down and came back up holding his phone. Shawn could see through the binoculars that the screen had cracked into a spider web.

“Holy crap.” He whispered as Carlton stalked back into the house.

He heard the door slam. Carlton went back into the kitchen and drained the scotch from the glass in one breath. Then he simply stood there, leaning against the table on his hands. Shawn decided this was his time to get up and get the hell out of here. But he was damn sure going to figure out what was going on. Nobody fucked with his Lassie.

Shawn headed back to the bar to pick up his motorcycle. He noticed that the Focus was no longer parked by the curb. He hadn’t heard it leave so regardless of the fact the headlight was held in place with duct tape, the engine must run pretty smooth. There was no doubt in his mind that Carlton’s note and that car were linked. What he didn’t understand was why whoever it was had been tracking him. It wasn’t like he and Carlton were best buds that hung out together all the time. Why him and not someone like Juliet? As Carlton’s partner she probably knew some things Shawn didn’t. Probably not many, Shawn did after all enjoy playing little games with Carlton, but there had to be some.

Back at the bar, Shawn unlocked his helmet and put it on. The place was open now and there were quite a few cars in the parking lot. Probably not as many as there would be on the weekend, but enough to say the bar did pretty good business through the week. Mounting his motorcycle, Shawn automatically scanned the cars, his brain picking out details on them. After digging his key out of his pocket, Shawn put it in the ignition and was just getting ready to click it on when his eyes settled on the grey Ford Focus.

“No way.” He murmured.

He took the helmet back off, hanging it on one of the handlebars. Dismounting, he crept into the shadows, approaching the car, and carefully creeping around to look at its front end. Sure enough: yellow duct tape.

Shawn looked at the bar. He’d went in there once before when he had been in the area and fancied a beer. The way the door and lights were set up, the driver of the car would be able to see him long before he’d be able to see any faces in the dark interior of the bar. Quickly considering his options, Shawn decided tucking into the darkness by the back door was his best option. He’d already done one stakeout today. Might was well do another. He moved into the shadows and faded into them. He was glad he was wearing darker colors. Faint music reached him from the other side of the wall he was leaning against, mostly just low, thumping bass. Sighing, Shawn waited.

He had only been holding his position for a few minutes when the door opened and a man and woman walked out. He quickly scanned them, noting that even though they were leaving together and appeared to be a couple, they were, in fact, strangers. The man’s body language indicated he had picked the woman up and they were now headed to either a cheap motel room or his house. Probably not her house since she wore a rather extravagant wedding ring.

The two made their way across the parking lot, their quite voices fading. Shawn’s eyes were back on the door, but he heard car doors open and close, an engine grumbling to life, and a car leaving the parking lot. A few minutes after that, a pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. Shawn made sure the lights didn’t flash across him and ruin his hiding place. A big man wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat got out of the truck and went into the bar.

Shawn was thankful there was going to be enough activity to keep him occupied while he waited for the driver of the Focus to come out. He pegged a couple more one-night stands, although it didn’t appear that any of them were married. There was also a petite looking blond in a slinky red dress that he realized was really a petite guy in a slinky red dress. The drunk that went home with that one would be in for a big surprise.

When the door opened about an hour and a half later and the non-descript brunette that had left the note at Carlton’s walked out, Shawn straightened and watched. The guy, presumably Eric, walked across the parking lot, one hand in the front pocket of his jeans and the other swinging loosely at his side. His pace was unhurried, almost non-chalant until he looked to the left and paused a moment. Shawn followed his gaze and realized Eric was looking at his motorcycle.

Shawn sank deeper into the shadows as Eric took a slow 360⁰ turn around the parking lot. For a moment, his eyes rested on the shadows that Shawn was currently camouflaged in. Shawn held his breath and froze until that gaze moved away.

After staring around for several moments longer, Eric continued his walk across the parking lot. When he got to the Focus, he got in and started it up. Shawn could faintly see him check the parking lot once more and then he drove away, turning right onto the main road and disappearing.

Shawn peeled himself away from the shadows and walked over to his motorcycle. As he slid the helmet on over his head, he considered Eric’s reaction upon seeing the motorcycle. If any proof was needed that Eric had been following him the last couple days that pretty much covered it. Eric had recognized the motorcycle, and had looked for its owner.

Starting the motorcycle, Shawn kicked it into gear and headed out of the parking lot. As he made his way back to the Psych office, he tried to puzzle out why this Eric guy was interested in him. After reading the note it was obvious why he was interested in Carlton. Can we say psychotic ex-boyfriend, boys and girls?

Unable to come up with an answer that was anywhere within the realm of possibility (the idea that both he and Carlton were going to be kidnapped by an alien and used for breeding purposes notwithstanding), he pulled into the parking lot at Psych and cut the engine. With all the questions marching through his head he knew he wasn’t likely to get much sleep tonight so it looked like a night of junk food and Need for Speed.


	5. Chapter Five

The ringing of his cell phone woke Shawn the next morning. He picked it up, stretching his neck. He had fallen asleep in his office chair and was regretting it. A lot. He recognized Juliet’s ring tone, currently the chorus of Kool and the Gangs “Fresh” announcing ‘She’s fresh, fresh, exciting. She’s so exciting to me’ and answered it with a sleepy, “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”

“Hey, Shawn.” Juliet replied in her usual chipper voice. It was actually a little grating in his half-asleep state, “That license plate number you gave us yesterday? It’s registered to Emanuaella Guitiera-Valdez-Perez.”

“That’s great, Jules.” Shawn said through a yawn, “Is she wanted for the longest name ever?”

“No.” Juliet said. Shawn could actually hear her smile, “She’s not on the police radar at all. But her son is. Esteban Guitiera-Valdez-Perez, better known on the streets as El Lobo Blanco; the White Wolf.” She paused expectantly.

Shawn flipped through all of the bad guys he knew of and in just a few seconds landed on the White Wolf’s rap sheet. He had seen it just a couple days ago, laying on Detective Emerson’s desk as he walked by it on the way over to irritate Carlton.

“The guy that’s working on the West coast for the East coast mob?” he asked, feeling the sleepiness start to fall away quickly, “The guy with two pages of arrests and no convictions because the Family has one of their best lawyers out here taking care of him?”

“That’s him.” Juliet confirmed, “We’re going over to Emmanuela’s house to see if she knows where her son’s at. Thought you might like to come. I know Gus has that team building seminar he had to go to.”

Shawn huffed and his tone was dripping with sarcasm, “Team building so a bunch of pharmaceutical reps can hold hands and be friends? Please. We all know that Psych is the important job here. And me and Gus already make an excellent team. Meet you at the station in about twenty.”

“Okay. See you.”

Shawn hung up and pocketed his phone. After relieving himself and chugging a Red Bull from the mini-fridge, he grabbed his helmet and walked outside. As he was walking to his motorcycle he happened to glance out towards the beach. He immediately noticed Eric mingling with a crowd of people that were watching a street performer. He was watching Shawn.

Shawn felt that same ice-cold chill chase itself down his spine as their eyes connected across the open air between them. There was no doubt in Shawn’s mind at all that Eric had _wanted_ Shawn to see him. He didn’t understand why, but he did understand the look on Eric’s face, even from this distance. It was pure and simple hate.

The most ostensible thing to do in that moment was for Shawn to march right over to Eric and demand to know what his game was. However, Shawn’s legs completely rebelled on him in that moment and he found he couldn’t approach the guy. He stood there, watching Eric watch him. Why would Eric want to make himself visible to him all of a sudden? Shawn was positive that Eric had not been visible to him before now. His car, yes. But not Eric himself. Given that creepy-ass feeling he got looking at him, Shawn knew he would have noticed him.

Eric suddenly smiled at him and tipped him a small salute. The smile wasn’t warm, pleasant, or inviting. It was, in fact, absolutely terrifying. Shawn began moving towards his motorcycle again, needing to get away from that smile. Securing his helmet, he mounted the motorcycle and started it. Casting one last look back before pulling out of the parking lot, he saw Eric still standing there watching him.

Once out in traffic, Shawn found his thoughts coming a little easier and it occurred to him that the only reason Eric would _want_ Shawn to see him was if Eric knew Shawn would recognize him. That left the million-dollar question of how Eric knew that recognition would be there. And suddenly Shawn remembered something very important.

Eric had approached Carlton’s house from the east. He had left going back the same way. That direction had been almost completely blocked off from Shawn’s vantage point. Carlton’s front porch blocked the sidewalk and his house blocked everything else _including the vacant house next door_.

If Eric was the stalker that Shawn guessed him to be, he would be staying close to Carlton, at least when he wasn’t out trailing Shawn. And what better way to do that than camping out in the vacant house next door? Shawn would not have seen him going into that house, even if he snuck around to the back, which he had almost certainly done to avoid being seen. But Shawn would have been completely visible to Eric when he walked around to the front of Carlton’s house to see what the note said.

Checking his mirrors to make sure he wasn’t being followed, Shawn headed for Carlton’s. He knew Carlton would be at work by now and since Eric was back on the beach at the Psych office, he could take a quick look to see if he was right. Traffic was heavier in the mornings and it took Shawn almost fifteen minutes to get to Carlton’s. The Crown Vic was nowhere to be seen which meant Carlton was at work where he was supposed to be. Just to play it safe, Shawn drove around the block to make sure the Focus was nowhere to be seen before pulling into the driveway between the vacant house and Carlton’s.

He parked at an angle behind Carlton’s house so the motorcycle couldn’t be seen easily from the vacant house or from the street behind where the Focus was parked the night before. He walked across the driveway and over to the back door. He noted a broken pane of glass near the door knob as he approached. Eric had been here alright.

Before entering the house, Shawn looked through the window for signs that anyone was in the house. He was certain Eric wasn’t, but there was the possibility he was working with someone. He saw nothing that would indicate anyone was there and so he let himself into the house. Pausing inside the door, he listened. Silence met him broken only by the occasional passing of a car out front. Somewhere in the distance but growing incrementally louder was what sounded like a hundred or so motorcycles. Shawn remembered hearing there was going to be a benefit rally today and dismissed them.

Keeping his senses on high alert and walking in complete silence (again, thank you, Dad), he moved further into the house. The back porch he had entered through gave way to the kitchen. It was fully furnished with appliances, although the refrigerator door was ajar and a blanket of dust covered the glass top of the stove. The windows in the kitchen all faced east, opposite of Carlton’s house. It was unlikely Eric spent any time in there.

There was one door and an archway that lead into another room. Shawn checked the door first and found stairs leading down to the basement. Closing it again, Shawn turned and went through the archway.

“Jackpot.” He whispered to himself as he studied the scene laid out before him.

A sleeping bag was laid out on the floor in the middle of the room next to a small duffel bag containing various pieces of clothing. There was a stack of eat-from-the-can items such as tuna, raviolis, and sardines. Shawn grimaced upon seeing the sardines. As far as he was concerned, nobody in their right mind would eat sardines. And obviously this guy Eric wasn’t in his right mind so his line of logic proved accurate.

As he knelt down to investigate the duffel, the roar of the motorcycles rose to a crescendo and the first in the line started rolling past the windows that looked out on the street. Shawn spared a single glance at them. He had thought about joining the run himself when he heard about it, but he was short on cash this week and Gus refused to give him the entry fee, regardless of the fact it was for charity.

Being extremely careful to not cause too much of a disturbance with the clothing, Shawn dug around looking for anything that would give him an idea about who he was dealing with. There wasn’t much. Several pairs of jeans and a couple of T-shirts made up the bulk of the clothing. A few pairs of underwear were thrown into the mix and Shawn made sure to stay away from them. He wasn’t about to touch a stranger’s underwear, clean or otherwise.

He had made it to the bottom of the duffel when he actually found something interesting. It was a picture. Carefully slipping it out from under the clothing, Shawn looked at it feeling a mixture of emotions he wasn’t quite ready to deal with. It was a picture of Carlton and Eric, although they were both much younger. Shawn figured them to both be around 19 or 20, and he could tell from the background that they were on a college or university campus. They were standing very close together with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. The look on Carlton’s face as he looked into the camera was one of simple, complete love and adoration. Shawn felt a pang of jealousy that this stranger had known Carlton in a way that Shawn could only dream about.

Eric, however, was a whole other ballgame. It wasn’t so much the look of possessiveness on his face, although that was definitely creepy, but the odd flatness to his eyes. He didn’t look like he was in love at all. He looked like a sociopath that was bordering very closely on psychopath. How could Carlton not see that?

The roar of passing motorcycles was finally starting to ebb as Shawn began to slide the picture back underneath the clothing where he had gotten it. Before he had gotten it tucked back into place, a voice spoke from behind him sounding wistful and a little sad, “We were so happy once upon a time.”

Shawn vaulted to his feet, spinning around and cursing the motorcycles that had allowed Eric to sneak up on him. He came face to face with Eric, and the gun that was pointed at his forehead looked very, very big. In the seconds before he replied to that statement, Shawn took a read on Eric’s face. There was no wistfulness or sadness there. There was a cold calculation present in those jade eyes that caused that icy chill to chase itself down Shawn’s spine again. He hid it saying, “Carlton was happy.” He purposefully used Carlton. Somehow using Lassie in front of this asshole was just wrong, “I don’t know what you were.”

“I was happy, Shawn.” Eric insisted, “Everything was perfect until that meddler Robert started to interfere and messed everything up.”

Shawn tried not to show the shock that rolled through him upon hearing Eric call him by name.

“Yes, I know your name.” Eric said, apparently reading him much easier than Shawn liked. “I knew everything about you before you decided to get so nosy last night.”

“I had no idea I was so popular.” Shawn flashed his best, cheesiest grin, “I feel so loved.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Eric said, “I’ve been here watching Carlton for quite a while now. I’ve been waiting for this long enough that I don’t plan on messing it up. And you, you’ve made it so easy for me now. All this time I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you alone without that friend of yours and here you are delivering yourself to me just as pretty as you please.”

Shawn frowned, “Why do you want me?”

The smile Eric showed him belonged in a graveyard. He stepped towards Shawn. “That, dear Shawn, is for me to know and you to find out.”

Shawn didn’t even see the gun coming. He only felt the explosion of pain in his head and then there was nothing but blackness.


	6. Chapter Six

Carlton paced the length of the Chief’s office while Juliet sat in a chair across from the Chief.

“I still say we don’t need him for this, Chief. We’re just going to talk to her.”

“This was Mr. Spencer’s lead.” Chief Vick said, glancing at her watch, “I want him there to see if he can get a read on Emmanuela or anything in her house.” She looked at Juliet, “O’Hara, I thought you said he’d be right in.”

“He said he’d be here in twenty minutes.” Juliet replied. She glanced at her own watch, “But that was almost an hour ago.”

“Knowing him, he stopped for a pineapple coffee or some crap.” Carlton growled. He was uneasy about Shawn’s failure to appear, but he tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the case, “Let’s go. And he can psychically find us.” He put air quotes around ‘psychically’.

His comment earned nothing more than a frown from the Chief. He hardly noticed. He had been on edge every since Shawn had texted him the night before. He knew in his gut that Shawn hadn’t been at Tom Blair’s Pub. Carlton didn’t know where he had been hiding, but he knew damn well Shawn had been somewhere around his house. What if Eric had seen Shawn there? He couldn’t say he didn’t know what Eric was capable of. What he didn’t know was how far Eric would go. Carlton didn’t think it out of the realm of possibility that Eric would actually kill.

“Why don’t you give him another call, O’Hara?” Chief Vick said.

Juliet pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit a speed-dial number. She held it to her ear briefly and then disconnected the call.

“It went straight to voicemail.” She said, pocketing the phone again.

“Alright.” Chief Vick said with a sigh, “Give him another ten minutes and then head over to Emmanuela’s.”

The ten minutes that followed were almost excruciatingly quiet. Carlton found himself actually praying that he would hear the circus pomp and herald that always seemed to be accompany Shawn’s arrival at the precinct. He knew that now more than at any other time in the last couple of weeks he needed to come clean to the Chief. It was only the three of them in the office. But, although his mind kept telling him to do it, he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to obey. He kept picturing their faces when he said ‘Hey, Chief, just thought I should let you know that I’m gay and I was in an abusive relationship a long time ago with this borderline psychotic and I think he may have done something to Shawn because I’ve been attracted to him since we started working together.’

“Carlton, are you okay?” Juliet asked suddenly, her tone concerned.

“Of course I am.” Carlton replied gruffly, “Why?”

“You just kind of look pale all of a sudden.” She said.

“You are looking a little peaked, Detective.” Chief Vick agreed.

“I’m fine.” Carlton repeated, drawing out the fine, “Can we just go already?”

“Yes.” Chief Vick said, “I’ll send Mr. Spencer along when he gets here.”

Juliet stood up as Carlton said, “Finally.” And headed out the door.

He heard Juliet hurrying to keep up with him as long strides carried him out of the precinct and to his car. She got in the passenger seat as he was situating himself in the driver’s seat and cranking the engine over.

“Carlton.” She said, covering the hand he was turning the key with, “Just stop for a minute please.”

Carlton sighed and let his hand drop to his lap.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I’m your partner. You’ve never kept anything from me before.”

“I can’t.” Carlton said quietly, staring at the steering wheel.

Her words made him feel lower than dirt because she was right. He had never kept anything from her before. One of the first things he had told her when she became his partner was that you had to know you could trust your partner implicitly and be able to count on them no matter what. He felt like the world’s biggest hypocritical ass.

“Why not?” she asked

Her tone wasn’t angry. In fact, she almost sounded hurt and that just made him feel worse.

“Look, Juliet,” he used her first name almost without realizing it, “I appreciate that you want to help me. I do. I just…I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She said, “But when you can, I’ll be here waiting.”

He offered her a small smile, “Thank you.”

* * *

The next few hours seemed to flow at a snail’s pace. Emmanuela, of course, had absolutely no idea where her son was. Carlton was actually impressed at how angry she appeared towards her son, calling him names, praying that he would someday change his ways, and then cursing the day he was born. He didn’t believe a word of it, but the act was one of the better ones he’d seen.

She allowed them to look around her house and it was true enough that there didn’t seem to be any sign of Esteban. Emmanuela said she lived alone and there was nothing visible that said otherwise. When they asked if they could look in her car, however, her desire to be accommodating seemed to disappear.

“It’s such a mess in there.” She said shaking her head, “I try to clean it out once a week. I spend so much time in it driving to see my patients, I’m a home health nurse, you know, and I just haven’t had time the last couple of weeks. I just can’t let you look in there.”

“We’ve seen our fair share of messy cars, ma’am.” Carlton said, “I don’t think there’s much that could surprise us.”

She still refused and they decided not to push her. After thanking her for her help, they got back in the car and headed for the station.

“We’ll talk to the Chief.” Carlton said, “See if we can get some eyes on that car. There was something in there she didn’t want us to see.”

“Agreed.” Juliet said.

The rest of the ride was silent. Carlton assumed Juliet was processing everything they had seen and heard at Emmanuela’s, which was exactly what he should be doing. He couldn’t focus on it, however. The only thing he seemed to be able to think about was that Chief Vick hasn’t called to tell them Shawn was on his way. That meant he had never shown up. Shawn was irresponsible in a hundred different ways, but he would never blow off a case like this. He enjoyed trying to show Carlton up way too much.

When they pulled up in front of the station, Carlton stopped the car and said, “Why don’t you head on in and start the reports. I got a couple things I need to do first.”

She looked at him, her eyes locking solidly on his and forcing his gaze to meet hers, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”

He tried to smile, but failed, “I’m sure O’Hara.”

“Okay.” She replied.

She opened the car door, got out, and disappeared into the precinct.

Carlton dropped the car into drive again and headed towards the Psych office. Shawn’s motorcycle wasn’t parked out front. He checked the office door and found it locked. Looking in the window, he saw the office was empty. So, either Shawn had actually been responsible enough to lock the door behind him this morning, which happened a lot less often that one would think, or he hadn’t been at the office when Juliet called.

Carlton got back in his car and drove to Shawn’s apartment. His motorcycle wasn’t there either, but the door was unlocked. Carlton only hesitated a moment before going inside. It took approximately two seconds to search the place. Shawn wasn’t there, nor did it look like he had been in a couple days. Carlton knew Shawn spent a lot of nights at least the ones he didn’t have dedicated to bedding a sexy girl next door type, at the Psych office.

Not finding Shawn in either of the places he stayed didn’t do much for setting his mind at ease. For several long minutes he sat in his car thinking. There was one option he could still explore and that was to have a location trace ran on Shawn’s phone. He would have to do it under the radar, but he knew someone that owed him a favor that would run the trace.

Making his decision, Carlton drove back to the precinct. He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone, dialing. He didn’t see Juliet at her desk and was hoping he would be able to wrap this up before she got back. He didn’t want to have to come up with a reason as to why he was running a trace on Shawn’s phone.

“Coltrane.” A voice answered after two rings.

“Hey, it’s Lassiter.” Carlton said.

“Hey, what’s shaking?” Coltrane asked.

“I need to call in that favor.” Carlton said.

“After only a year and a half?” Coltrane chortled, “You sure you don’t want to bank it for another year or two?”

Carlton ignored the jest, “I need a quiet location trace on a cell phone.”

“Okay, sure.” Coltrane responded, his voice losing its humorous edge, “Whatcha got?”

“Shawn Spencer. 555-8312.”

“Shawn Spencer? The psychic guy?”

“He’s not psychic.” Carlton replied, mostly out of habit.

“That ain’t what I hear.” Coltrane said.

“Will you just run the trace, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Give me five minutes.”

Carlton hung up and looked around. He could see Juliet now, seated in the Chief’s office. More than likely she was trying to set up a stakeout for Emmanuela’s car. Both her and the Chief were too busy conversing to notice Carlton sitting at his desk. He kept an eye on them as he waited for Coltrane to call him back, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he had to leave again in case one of them looked out and saw him. But they were still deep in conversation when his phone rang.

He picked it up, “Lassiter.”

“He’s somewhere in the area of Willowood and Turnkey.” Coltrane said, “Looks like around the middle of the 600 block of Willowood.”

Carlton felt his heart jump into his throat with a sudden thudding force. Shawn was near his house. More than likely Shawn was _at_ his house. But why? And why hadn’t he answered when Juliet called him?

“Okay, got it.” He said into the receiver. His tone was normal enough but he could hear his accelerated and heavy heartbeat causing it to waver ever so slightly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Coltrane said. If he had heard anything abnormal in Carlton’s voice he said nothing, “See ya’.”

Carlton hung up and headed for his car at what he hoped appeared to be a normal pace. His house, normally a fifteen-minute drive from the precinct, came into view in only eight. He didn’t pull into the driveway, however. Instead, he pulled to the curb a couple houses away and studied it intently.

From what he could see the house appeared to be exactly as he had left it when he had gone to work. It didn’t _feel_ the same though. Maybe it was only because Shawn’s phone had been traced here, but his house somehow felt darker and almost foreboding. Deciding he wasn’t going to learn the truth sitting in the car, he got out and shut the door. As he walked toward his house, he unsnapped his holster.

As he mounted the steps to the front porch, he tried to see in the window, but the sun was reflecting at just the right angle that it made seeing anything inside impossible. Trying the doorknob, he found it was still locked. He fished his keys out and unlocked it as quietly as he could. Turning the knob, he pushed in, making almost no noise. Silence greeted him as he stood just inside the doorway. The vestibule where he was standing blocked almost the entire living room, but he could see the dining room and kitchen. They were empty and looked exactly as they had when he left for work.

Suddenly, Eric’s voice broke the silence, coming to him from the living room and Carlton felt his stomach roll, “Don’t be shy, Carlton. Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Carlton’s mind locked onto the _we_ in that sentence. Shawn was here and Eric had him. Taking a deep breath and trying to steady the tremble that suddenly caused his hands to shake, he stepped out of the vestibule and into the living room.

Eric was squatted down by a handcuffed Shawn with a gun nestled into the underside of Shawn’s jaw. The fear radiating off Shawn was almost palpable but the faux-psychic gave Carlton a huge smile that never came close to his eyes, “Hey, Las! Welcome home.”

“Shut up.” Eric said.

Carlton studied Shawn intently for a moment. He appeared to be uninjured except for a spot of blood and dark bruise on his cheek. Knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment that wouldn’t wind up getting Shawn killed, he turned his attention to Eric, “What do you want?” He tried for his trademark growl but failed miserably.

“Want?” Eric replied, “I don’t _want_ anything. I told you, Carlton. I’m going to hurt you. And this is how it’s going to start.”

“Fine.” Carlton said, hoping it didn’t sound as pleading to Eric as he did to himself, “Hurt me. But leave him out of it. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so Carlton.” Eric said, “Because, you see, he’s _how_ I’m going to hurt you. Or at least he’s a large part of it.”

Carlton felt his stomach roll again. The idea of Eric doing anything to Shawn made him want to throw up. He braced himself against it, though, trying to find some way out of this situation.

“Oh, hey now, Eric,” Shawn, who had turned a decidedly ghost-white at Eric’s words, said. There was a touch of panic in his voice and Carlton wanted more than anything to try and calm him down, but if he let on that he liked Shawn, even just a little bit, it would be worse in the long run. “Whoa there. If you’ve been doing as much studying as you say you have, then you’ve got to realize that killing me isn’t going to do anything to him. Hell, if he could’ve gotten away with it, he’d have already killed me a dozen times over.”

“I told you I didn’t want to kill you.” Eric cut him off, “So shut the hell up.”

For a wonder, Shawn lapsed into silence. Carlton understood the message behind Eric’s words. He hadn’t killed Robert either, but he had hurt him bad enough that after waking up from the coma, he only had partial use of his left hand. Eric had stabbed him with something and destroyed some of the tendons.

Carlton debated on whether he could get to his gun quick enough to put an end to everything right now, but horrifyingly found that his fear of Eric and the submissiveness that Eric had built into him so long ago was keeping his brain from processing the way it should.

“Now, listen to me very carefully, Carlton.” Eric said, “I’m only going to tell you this once. Very slowly take that cannon of yours out and put it on the floor. Kick it away from you. Then take out your handcuffs, face away from me so I can make sure you don’t try anything silly, and put the handcuffs on so I can see it.”

The tone Eric used was the same one he had used in the bedroom when he commanded Carlton to perform those degrading and humiliating things. _Spread your legs so I can see your balls, Carlton._ And Carlton would spread his legs so Eric could slap his ball with his small flogger. If he hesitated at all or didn’t respond fast enough the punishment was swift and usually severe. And so he complied, feeling sick at his inability to resist.

When he had finally gotten away from Eric, he had promised himself he would never allow himself to be subjugated by another person, ever. And he had kept that promise…until now. Because here he was taking his gun out with two fingers and laying it on the floor. He tried to tell himself he was only complying to keep Shawn safe, but that was a lie and he knew it. He took out his handcuffs and turned around, allowing Eric to watch him secure the cuffs around his wrists. He heard Eric approaching and then…blackness.


	7. Chapter Seven

Shawn’s slow fade to consciousness was greeted by a million tiny jackhammers all pounding against the inside of his skull. In addition, his shoulders were aching fiercely. He realized this was because he was bent over something and his arms were secured far enough above his head that his shoulders were protesting. He realized he was naked and that little realization did nothing to calm him down. Especially considering the position he was fixed in. He could feel some kind of strap that was holding his torso down and he could feel restraints hooked to each of his ankles, forcing his legs to be spread apart far enough that he could feel cool air against his private areas.

Shawn opened his eyes and found himself staring into Carlton’s piercing blue eyes. He realized quickly Carlton was secured on his knees directly in front of him. He couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like his hands were secured in handcuffs and attached to something underneath the table.

“We’ve got to talk about the company you keep, Lassie.” Shawn said as he looked around the room.

There was nothing to really see. The room was completely bare, with the exception of a mirror directly across from him and another directly opposite that one so there was a never-ending image of him tied naked to the table with Carlton kneeling in front of him. A single light shown down from above them. Through the mirror he could see a door set into the opposite wall. It was solid and rather plain looking without even a doorknob to break the smooth planes of its surface. Above the door and above the mirror were two small security cameras with a blinking red light. They were both angled toward the table Shawn was currently restrained on.

“Are you okay?” Carlton asked, his tone was genuinely concerned.

“Peachy keen.” Shawn replied, “Although being naked in front of you wasn’t on my list of to-dos for a while yet.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” Carlton said and this time, his tone wasn’t quite like anything Shawn had ever heard him use before, at least not with Shawn himself. There was a regret so honest that for a moment Shawn was speechless.

“I really don’t think it’s your fault, man.” He finally managed, “This guy’s just a grade A looney. A dangerous loony.”

Carlton didn’t say anything. Shawn tried to shift, testing his restraints. They were tight. The only thing he could move even a little bit was his arms and moving them caused the pain to flare in his shoulders.

“You have any idea where we are?” he asked finally.

Carlton shook his head. “No. Someplace nobody’s going to look for us, I’m sure.”

Shawn suddenly remembered telling Juliet he would meet her at the station. Surely when he didn’t show up, she would know something was wrong.

“Jules knows I’m missing.” He whispered, in case the cameras also had sound capability. He opted not to tell Carlton about the little detour he had taken. This wasn’t really the time or place to piss him off.

“She’ll eventually realize I’m missing too.” Carlton whispered back, “But she’s got nothing to go on. As far as she’s concerned, we both disappeared into thin air.”

“You knew this guy was out to get you, dude. Why didn’t you talk to the Chief, take some precautions?”

Carlton stared down at the table, avoiding Shawn’s eyes. “Eric is a part of my lift I would just assume forget. And it’s a part nobody else needs to know about.”

Shawn hesitated a moment, debated on pointing out that he should have a right to know since he was the one that was strapped down in a very compromising position; start naked. Instead, he said, “So you dated a guy. So what?”

Carlton’s eyes snapped up to his, “He told you that?”

Shawn went with it for now, “Yeah, he mentioned it. You know being gay or bi isn’t like it used to be. I doubt anyone would have said boo about it.”

“It wasn’t just that.” Carlton said looking back down at the table.

Shawn waited for him to explain, but Carlton didn’t say anything else.

“What was it then?” he prodded finally.

Carlton shook his head and said flatly, “Nothing I want to share with you.”

Shawn debated on pushing but decided against it, “Far enough, I guess.”

After a few minutes of silence, the door opened, causing him to jump slightly and wrenching his shoulders even more. Eric walked in and the door swung shut behind him. Shawn didn’t see anybody else and Eric’s hand was in his pocket. On the power of deductive reasoning, Shawn realized the door was run on a remote somehow.

Eric stood beside them with his arms crossed loosely and a smile that froze Shawn’s blood.

“Well, have you guys been having a nice little chat?” he asked.

“Just like a couple of school girls at a sleepover.” Shawn shot back, “Only somebody stole my PJs.”

Eric chuckled, “I like you, Shawn. Always ready with the one-liners.”

“I was a stand-up comedian for a couple of weeks in Idaho. Apparently, there’s more to it than standing on stage telling jokes. You have to have timing and worry about delivery and all sorts of crap. Too much work. But the drinks were free.”

Eric ignored Shawn’s babbling and looked over at Carlton. “You know why I took him and left Victoria alone, don’t you?”

“You just said it.” Shawn answered for Carlton, trying to push off the inevitable as long as possible, “For my great one-line comic relief.”

Eric didn’t even act like he heard him. His gaze was completely focused on Carlton and Shawn could see that glint of possessiveness had returned to those cold eyes.

“Because you’re every bit as crazy as Robert said you are.” Carlton growled.

Shawn noted that there was much less of a bite to that growl than normal and Carlton was refusing to look Eric in the eye. _Submissive_ , his brain supplied, and it really sat wrong on Carlton. Shawn suddenly saw the faces of the dozen or so domestic abuse cases he’d been involved with since starting his work with the SBPD. Carlton’s face, at that moment, was the epitome of every abused person he’d ever met when confronted by their abuser.

A knot twisted in Shawn’s gut at that sudden realization. He tried to picture Carlton as an abused part of any relationship and he just couldn’t. The Head Detective was too sure of himself and where he was going in life, too confident in his abilities. Seeing Carlton, eyes downcast, away from someone he obviously hated, hurt Shawn on a level he wasn’t even aware existed.

Eric leaned down and grabbed a handful of Carlton’s hair. He shoved his head back, forcing Carlton to meet his eyes.

“You like him, Carlton. It astounds me that you can hide it from everyone so well, but I know you better than that. You yell at him a lot and you push him around because it’s easier for you to do that than to admit any of those other feelings you have for him.”

Shawn could hardly believe what he was hearing. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that Carlton was suddenly looking quite pink in the ears and cheeks, he would have thought Eric was joking.

Eric’s cold smile returned and he released Carlton. To Shawn’s ever-increasing unease, Carlton’s gaze immediately went back to the table.

“I’m sure you have some things to talk about now.” Eric said, “I’ll be back in a little while to get the party started.” His gaze flicked over to Shawn. It was hungry and sent chills down Shawn’s spine. It said whatever he planned to do he was going to enjoy it immensely.

Eric stood up, his hand going back into his pocket. The door opened and he left. As the door swung shut, Shawn looked over at Carlton. He hadn’t looked up when Eric had left. His gaze was still locked to the table, ears and cheeks still flushed pink.

“Lassie?” Shawn asked, unable to control the tremor that had crept into his voice, “Come on, buddy. Snap out of it.”

Carlton finally looked at Shawn. His eyes were haunted and full of shame.

“Come on, man.” Shawn said, “Whatever happened between you two happened a long time ago. You’re not that person anymore.”

“He’s right, you know.” Carlton said quietly, seeming to ignore Shawn’s statement, “I do like you. But I tried to hide it because I know you’re not like that.”

“Lassie,” Shawn said with a deep sigh, “You have absolutely no idea how wrong you are or how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that. If we get out of this, we’re going to sit down and have a long talk about it, maybe over dinner and drinks, but right now, I need you to pull yourself together, man.”

Shawn saw a swiftly running surprise flash across Carlton’s face at Shawn’s proclamation, but the haunted shame returned almost immediately. “You don’t understand, Shawn. I knew what he was capable of and I didn’t try to protect you when I realized he was back. It’s my fault you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Shawn replied, “I believe I, unfortunately, made it pretty easy for him.”

“Meaning what?”

“The spirits may have led me to where he was staying.”

“You’re not psychic.” Carlton said, but his standard phrase lacked the heat that it was normally spoken with.

“Why do you say you know what he’s capable of?” Shawn asked, “What’s he done?”

Carlton was silent for a long time before saying, “I met this guy back in college while I was with Eric. His name was Robert. He saw through Eric right away and tried to convince me he was dangerous. I didn’t believe him. Even after Eric started…” he paused, struggling to continue, “hitting me, I didn’t believe him.” Shawn saw tears start to glisten in his eyes. When he continued, his voice trembled, “I took both advanced and abnormal psychology, Shawn. How could I not see what was happening to me? What he was?”

“It’s easier to see what’s happening from outside the situation.” Shawn said. He had heard his Mom say that more than once and it seemed quite appropriate at the moment. “So, what happened?”

“He started making me…”Carlton paused as if the words he was about to say were the bitterest pill ever swallowed, “do things…in the bedroom. Degrading, horrible things. If I tried to refuse, he’d turn me into a human punching bag.” The tears broke free and rolled down his cheeks. “And I just fucking let him do it.”

Shawn had never wanted to comfort someone so much in his entire life. He wanted to pull Carlton to him and tell him again how he wasn’t that person anymore. He could stand up to Eric. He was the youngest Head Detective ever at the SBPD after all. He settled for twisting his hand enough in the restraint that he could take ahold of Carlton’s hand. Carlton returned the hold, tightly.

After a long silence, Carlton continued, “After almost a year, I finally asked Robert to help me leave Eric. I just…I couldn’t do it anymore. I actually…”

There was another long pause. Shawn matched the grip Carlton had on his hand, feeling the inner struggle in Carlton as he tried to force the words out. Shawn didn’t think he had ever truly hated anyone in his life. Even his Dad who he often professed to hate wasn’t truly hate. But if he could have gotten his hands on Eric at that moment, he would have killed him without a seconds worth of hesitation.

“I contemplated swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills.” Carlton finally managed to continue. “I knew I had to get out of the situation at that point. So, one night while Eric was out, Robert helped me get my stuff together and move into his house. I swear to everything that’s holy I would never have asked him to help me if I had known what was going to happen.

“What happened?” Shawn asked quietly, not sure he really wanted to know.

“Eric beat Robert up so badly he put him in a coma. I knew it was him but there was no proof. He left me a letter, but it was very carefully worded and couldn’t be used for evidence of any kind. It basically said that if I ever tried to be with someone else again, he would know and I would regret it. He disappeared after that. Robert was in a coma for almost four months. When he finally came out of it, he couldn’t remember what had happened. I transferred schools, tried to forget everything. Then I met Victoria. She loved me and I tried to love her back, but I knew the relationship would never be what it should be. I guess Eric knew too. She finally filed for divorce and I never blamed her. I just couldn’t give her what she needed. I truly thought Eric was out of my life. He hadn’t done anything to break us apart.”

Carlton lapsed into silence again, but Shawn could tell he wasn’t finished.

“After the divorce, I met someone else. This was just before I started seeing Lucinda. Actually, this was the whole reason I started seeing her. Harold was a great guy. Fun to be with. He knew I was gun shy and was willing to take it slow.”

Shawn saw tears building again and randomly thought: _Good thing Gus isn’t here. His sympathetic crying would be going crazy._ Then he realized tears were pricking his own eyes.

“Harold just disappeared after a few months. Moved out of his house, wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I had no idea what I had done to make him cut away from me so suddenly. Finally, after about three months, I got a phone call from him. He told me he loved me but that Eric had threatened to kill his parents if he didn’t get out of my life.” Drawing a shaking breath, Carlton glanced at Shawn, those blue eyes skating over Shawn’s hazel ones before settling back down to the table. “Then I met you. I felt an attraction from the second I saw you in that interrogation room. It scared me. I tried to discredit you because I didn’t want to risk working with you. But we wound up working with each other more and more. I told myself it didn’t matter because I only ever saw you with women. I focused on all of those irritating qualities you have, pretending I hated you. Part of it was because I didn’t want anyone to know I was gay, but most of it was because I was afraid of what Eric would do if he found out. You know what they saw, ‘Fake it until you make it’.” I figured if I faked it long enough, I might actually stop being attracted to you.

“Then, a couple weeks ago, I started getting notes from Eric. I didn’t want to face the possibility that he knew how I felt about you because I didn’t want to have to talk to you about it.”

“Next time,” Shawn said, trying to inject just a touch of lightness to the situation, “Try talking to me. Maybe over a cup of coffee at IHOP or something. Don’t wait until I’m spread out naked like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Carlton didn’t look up and his voice was barely more than a whisper, “I’m sorry, Shawn. I’m so sorry.”

“Carlton.” Shawn said firmly, forcing Carlton to look at him, “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re the victim here.”

Carlton held his gaze, but Shawn could see he didn’t believe he was a victim. He couldn’t see it because Eric had managed to brainwash him.

When the door opened, they both jumped.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers: This chapter contains a pretty graphic rape scene.

“Just can’t stay away from us, eh, Eric?” Shawn quipped as Eric walked in.

Carlton immediately noticed the things Eric held in his hand. His stomach knotted as he seen what each one was. In the darkness of his memories he remembered Eric using those same things on him. The leather strap that dominated the smaller items sent phantom waves of remembered pain across his backside. Sometimes that strap left bleeding steaks across his skin. Sometimes Eric controlled the stroke enough that it only created an inferno on his cheeks. Towards the end, Eric had been using it on him every night before introducing some new way to inflict pain on him. It was as if he couldn’t get hard until he saw tears running down Carlton’s face.

“S&M?” Shawn said when he saw the leather. Carlton knew he was trying to keep his voice light, but there was a tremble in it, “That’s so cliché, Eric. Really. You couldn’t…”

He was cut off when Eric landed a closed fist into his side, directly into the ribcage that was completely exposed due to Shawn’s position. Shawn yelped and swore.

“Shut up.” Eric said.

Carlton caught Shawn’s eye as Eric set his props down on the table. He tried to tell him in that look to be strong, to not let Eric win. Shawn held Carlton’s gaze and gave his hand a quick squeeze. He understood. There was fear in his eyes, but he understood.

Eric released Shawn’s hands from the table and unbuckled the strap that went around his torso. Then he yanked him into a standing position by the hair. Shawn winced but made no sound. Eric set about making his preparations, making frequent eye contact with Carlton as he did. Carlton tried to meet those eyes, but each time found his gaze dropping down in submission. Eric picked up the larger coil of rope from the table and began winding it around Shawn’s arms. By the time he had finished, Shawn’s arms were secured behind his back, the rope winding upward from his wrists to midway between his elbows and shoulders. The tension of the rope increased the higher up the arms it went and Carlton knew it was pulling Shawn’s arms together until there was pain radiating from elbows and shoulders as the arms were forced into an unnatural straightness behind him.

“You keep watching, Carlton.” Eric said, reaching down to grab Shawn’s cock and balls. Shawn jerked when Eric’s fingers closed around him his eyes snapping shut, but Eric seemed no to notice as he displayed both pieces of anatomy on the tabletop, “You keep looking him in the eyes because everything that’s about to happen to him is your fault. Completely and totally…” he squeezed Shawn’s ball hard enough to make Shawn bite out a swear, “your fault.”

At Eric’s words he opened his eyes and looked at Carlton. The message was clear in those hazel eyes: _Not your fault._ But Carlton could also see the fear that had widened the pupils until the hazel was almost gone and it was all his fault.

When Eric picked up a thinner piece of rope and began tying one end around the base of Shawn’s scrotum, Shawn’s eyes snapped shut again and Carlton could hear the fear accelerate his breathing. After securing the rope around Shawn, Eric secured the other end to the table forcing Shawn to keep himself flush against the edge of the table. When Eric flicked the head of Shawn’s wilted cock it was hard enough that Shawn hissed and reflexively tried to move away. The yank pulled against the rope on his balls causing him to cuss again and move his hips back to the table.

Carlton looked down at the table, unable to stand seeing the pain etched on Shawn’s face. He was angry, but the humiliation and fear were too strong. The anger curled into a corner of his mind, cowed into submission by memories of the past and Eric’s looming threat in the present. He heard Eric moving towards him and was already cringing away when fingers tangled in his hair again, forcing his head back and his eyes to meet Eric’s. He was so close those jade orbs were mere inches away.

“I told you to watch, Carlton.” Eric’s tone was low and level, the malice dripping from each word like venom.

He let go of Carlton’s hair and landed a closed fisted blow to his jaw. Before Carlton could recover, another closed fist hit him between the legs. Pain flared, liquid hot and he curled in on himself as much as he could, but he made no sound. Experience told him what would happen if he did.

“Don’t take your eyes off him again.” Eric said, walking back over to Shawn.

Carlton forced his eyes up, seeing Eric begin to stroke Shawn’s cock. In its current state, Eric’s hand almost swallowed it, but Carlton knew Eric would be able to get it hard. It wouldn’t matter how much Shawn didn’t want it to happen, Eric would make it happen. He was an expert at making a man’s body betray his mind.

He stole a quick glace at the tools Eric had put on the table and he knew immediately why Eric wanted him hard. In addition to the thicker leather used to punish the ass, Eric had also brought the riding crop. The leather piece at the end of the crop when used against an erect and highly sensitive cock was nothing short of exquisitely painful with very little effort on Eric’s part. Carlton remembered the pain and the only thing he could do was tell himself that as long as Eric used the flexible leather end he wouldn’t actually injure Shawn no matter how much he hurt him.

_Don’t let him hurt him!_ His mind screamed at him.

But how was he supposed to stop him? If he tried to distract him, if he could even force himself to do it, Eric would only land on Shawn harder. But how could he just watch this happen? How could he look at Shawn, knowing the whole thing was his fault? Carlton’s hands began working back and forth in the handcuffs.

Eric had successfully caused Shawn’s cock to harden to its full length and girth and he said, “That’s a good little bitch. Look at that cock of yours.”

Shawn’s face was a mask of disgust, his head turned to the side so he wasn’t looking at what Eric was doing to him. Eric reached over and got another of the smaller pieces of rope and wound it around the base of Shawn’s cock, ensuring it would stay in its fully erect state.

“What should we do to this beautiful cock, Carlton?” Eric asked, looking not at Carlton, but at the cock he had been toying with.

Carlton said nothing. The question, at least right now, was rhetorical and he prayed with every last bit of his soul that it stayed rhetorical. Eric was sadistic enough that he could force Carlton to ask him to use the crop on Shawn and Carlton felt that if that happened, his heart might just shatter.

“I think it looks awfully pale.” Eric continued picking up the crop.

Carlton screamed inside as Eric brought the leather tip down on Shawn’s cock. Shawn yiped, tried to pull away and spit out, “Fuck!” as his balls were yanked by the rope that held him.

Eric’s grin was predatory. He flicked the crop against Shawn again. Shawn’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a horrible grimace as pain flashed across his face, but he managed to stand still and stay quiet. Several more slaps and Shawn’s head was tipped back toward the ceiling and the cords in his neck were popped out in his effort to hold still. The head of his cock was turning a dark pink and his thigh muscles were trembling in his effort to not pull against the rope attached to his balls.

Carlton’s stomach rolled as he watched Shawn’s struggle. He should have tried harder to stay away from him, to not be attracted to him. Hell, he should have stayed with Eric in the first place. Then they wouldn’t even be here now. Robert wouldn’t be maimed for life.

_No!_ That angry part of him cried from its shelter. _That’s not right and you damn well know it!_

Carlton continued fighting with the handcuffs, completely unaware he was doing it. His entire focus was on Shawn. Every fiber of his being was trying to comfort him without being able to touch him, to send out any strength he had direct into Shawn’s soul.

Eric pinned Shawn’s cock back against his stomach, exposing his restrained balls. With a practiced flick of the crop, he brought the leather tip down, catching his balls. Shawn jerked and Carlton saw the rope pull against them hard. His cry was wordless as he tried to fold in on himself without much success. Without giving Shawn any recovery time, Eric unleased a flurry of flicking little strokes until Shawn was left gasping and trembling head to foot.

“Where’s those one-line quips now, Shawn?” Eric asked as he traced up Shawn’s body with the crop.

Through gritted teeth Shawn replied, “I decided not to waste anymore on a psychotic asshole like you.”

Carlton saw the shadow that swept over Eric’s face at that and he knew that wasn’t good.

Eric set the riding crop aside and gave Shawn’s cock a couple long, strokes, dragging his fingernails across the skin. Shawn managed to look toward Carlton, catching his eyes. Carlton read the pain there, the fear of what might be coming next. But Carlton knew what was coming next because he’d been there before. And it was going to be worse, because Carlton had never intentionally pissed Eric off like Shawn had just done. He prayed for this to be over, for Shawn to not have to go through anymore.

Eric removed the rope from both Shawn’s cock and his balls. Then he undid the rope binding his arms.

“Your ass is a looking a little pale.” He told Shawn, shoving him back over the table. He intentionally bounced Shawn’s head off of the surface as he did, “We need to fix that.”

After securing him with the torso and wrist restraints, Eric picked up the leather strap. It was about an inch wide, but thicker and stiffer than a normal belt. Shawn was watching the mirror and Carlton saw the set of his jaw, the determination to not cave. But Carlton knew Shawn had no experience dealing with the type of pain Eric was about to unleash.

When the first strike landed, echoing like a pistol shot in the closed room, Shawn cried out, his eyes squeezing shut, breath catching in his throat as the pain sank in. The second stroke he didn’t cry out, which in reality wasn’t good, Carlton knew, because Eric would take his silence as a personal challenge. The third stroke brought another cry and Shawn’s muscles fought against the restraints trying to get him out of the line fire.

Eric continued to bring the leather down again and again, the pace erratic. Sometimes he would bring it down quickly, laying in two or three in quick succession. Sometimes he paused for seconds at a time, never allowing Shawn to second guess when the next strike was coming. Shawn’s cries increased in volume and as his muscles continued to fight the restraints to no avail, tears began to slip from his eyes and run down his cheeks. Carlton could see Eric was using his full swing every time and he remembered well the feel of the leather as it came into contact with his skin. At first there was nothing but a numbing sensation as the nerves deciphered what had just happened, but it was very quickly followed by screaming pain. And just as the pain subsided to flames, the leather would strike again.

Carlton’s eyes flicked towards the mirror that was on the wall behind Shawn and he saw that tiny lines of blood wealed up everywhere the edges of the leather bit into the flesh. They criss-crossed almost every inch of skin and still Eric continued.

“Eric.” He said, his voice quiet and strained, “Stop. Please.”

Eric paused, glancing at him and then bringing the leather down again as he looked Carlton directly in the eye. Shawn screamed. His tears had become sobs that he was trying unsuccessfully to control.

“Eric,” Carlton begged, “Please.”

Eric smiled at him, that cold smile that always sent chills down Carlton’s spine; the one he used whenever he had found a new way to dominate and inflict pain. Then he looked down at what the leather had done to Shawn’s skin. Reaching down, he began kneading the punished flesh. Shawn whimpered.

“Beautiful.” Eric murmured.

He continued to knead for several moments as Shawn tried to writhe under his touch. Then, he set the leather aside and began to undo his belt and jeans. Carlton’s heart first missed a beat and then started to triphammer in his chest and he shook his head _no no no no._ Eric was going to rape Shawn and he was going to force Carlton to watch.

“Please don’t do this, Eric.” He all but whispered, “Please.”

In response, Eric shoved his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh. He was already hard, an impressive size in both length and girth that had roughly taken Carlton on more than one occasion. Carlton could feel tears start to fall. He knew that’s what Eric wanted to see, but he couldn’t stop them. Shawn was now staring in the mirror in front of him with a hysterical, panicked expression.

Eric positioned himself behind Shawn, spreading his cheeks apart as he lined up. Without preparing Shawn at all for his entrance, he shoved forward. Carlton could see him bury himself in Shawn via the mirror and his heart twisted knife sharp in his chest. Shawn cried out again from the pain that was surely accompanying something so large being shoved inside of him. He cries were growing hoarse.

Watching Eric as he began hammering into Shawn again and again, Carlton snapped. The anger that had been hiding emerged as black rage, overpowering all of the fear, all of the shame and humiliation. As the sickening slapping sound of Eric’s pelvis meeting Shawn’s punished backside echoed, Carlton began working his hands hard against the handcuffs, completely controlled by that black rage. His movements were just shy of frantic, but he had enough presence of mind to stay quiet and keep the work below Eric’s sightline.

Eric was pummeling Shawn. Carlton remembered what it felt like when Eric would do that to him before loosening him up, although he had never done it without at least using lube. But even with lube the pain was sharp and insistent. Without lube, the pain would be worse, not to mention the potential damage that was being done. Shawn’s eyes were now tightly closed and agony mixed with disgust and shame was dancing across his features. Carlton worked harder. He wasn’t aware his wrists and hands were bleeding. Carlton could tell Eric was nearing his release and he didn’t have much time. With a final yank, he was able to free one hand and then the other. He lost skin and deeply lacerated both hands in several spots, but the blood added enough lubricant that the metal was able to slide over his knuckles.

Eric slammed into Shawn one last time and Carlton saw he had reached his peak, riding out his orgasm buried deep inside Shawn. Shawn began to suddenly dry heave, his complexion ghost white as Eric filled him with cum. He turned his head away from Carlton as he did. Carlton knew this was his chance, likely the only one he would get. Eric’s eyes were closed as he spent himself.

Carlton rose, silent as death, ignoring the protest of his knees and launched himself at Eric. With a wordless cry, he caught him in a tackle that took Eric to the floor. He saw shock on Eric’s face as they hit the floor and then he was hitting him, his fist coming down on Eric’s face again and again and again. Even when blood started to fly, he didn’t stop. Now that he had found the rage, he realized he couldn’t control it. Everything Eric had put him through boiled up and his fist just kept hammering. It wasn’t until he realized Eric had stopped moving that he was able to stop, although, in truth, he had no idea how long Eric had been motionless. He got up off of him and backed away, shaking, before turning to Shawn.

“Shawn,” his voice was urgent but uneven, “Shawn, are you okay?”

There was no response. He began working on the restraints, “Shawn? Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I am.” Shawn finally replied, voice shaking and rough.

Carlton finished undoing the restraints and moved to the front of the table. Shawn’s eyes were open, still leaking tears. The shattered look on his face pierced Carlton’s heart like a bullet.

“I’m sorry, Shawn.” He said, “I’m so sorry.”

Shawn’s tone was oddly flat, “Did you kill that bastard?”

“I…I don’t know.” Carlton replied casting a quick glance over at Eric’s motionless form, “I think I might have.” He touched Shawn’s arm, “Can you stand up?”

Shawn struggled up with Carlton’s help, but collapsed as soon as his feet were under him.

“I’m going to go get help.” Carlton said, kneeling beside him.

Shawn looked at him and the faded, dazed expression on his face, the distant look in his eyes worried Carlton. He grabbed Carlton’s arm in an almost panicked grip. “No. Don’t leave me, please.” A shock of fear momentarily focused that distant look.

“I’ve got to go get help, Shawn.” Carlton said gently, “You’re hurt.”

Shawn was shaking his head. Carlton glanced over at Eric again. He was still unmoving and Carlton couldn’t see any rise and fall of his chest.

“Okay.” He said, “Let me go take care of Eric.”

When he gently pulled Shawn’s hand from his arm, Shawn let him, but that fear didn’t leave his eyes. Carlton got up and squatted down next to Eric’s still form. He forced himself to look at him, trying to process the two major emotions that were fighting each other: Relief and guilt. He felt such a refreshing relief, knowing that he was finally out of Eric’s constant looming threat. But the guilt of striking back against the person who had twisted his mind enough to believe he was worthy only of abuse, worthy only of satisfying the dark needs of one person, tried to overtake that relief.

Carlton reached down with a shaking hand and pressed two fingers against Eric’s neck. There was no pulse. He had killed him. Tears were threatening to fall and he brushed them away angrily. He told himself Eric deserved what he got. He had raped Shawn just to hurt Carlton. And it was that thought more than any other that began to overpower the guilt.

“Lassie?” Shawn asked, his tone still oddly flat.

Carlton looked up at him. That shattered look on Shawn’s face twisted his heart painfully again, “I’m right here, Shawn.” He said.

“Lassie, I don’t want to be naked anymore.” Shawn said faintly.

Carlton looked at Eric. He was almost the same size as Shawn, but he didn’t want to use his clothes in case there was any forensic evidence on them. He winced inwardly at that thought, realizing there was no way this was going to stay quiet now. Not with Eric being dead. Sighing he went back to Shawn, kneeling beside him. He took Shawn’s face in his hand, gently forcing Shawn to meet his eyes.

“Shawn, I need you to listen to me.”

Shawn’s distant, fearful eyes focused on Carlton.

“I’m going to see what’s outside the door. I promise I’m not leaving. I just need to see where we’re at and see if I can find your clothes, okay?”

Shawn only continued looking at him.

“You understand me, Shawn?”

After a moment, Shawn nodded, “Okay.”

Carlton got up and went back over to Eric’s body. Avoiding looking at Eric’s battered face, he searched the pockets until he found the remote for the door. He opened it and stepped outside the room, casting a quick glance back at Shawn. He was curled in on himself, motionless. Carlton didn’t think he had ever seen him so still.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a few more chapters up for this one. The psychology of it is a little hard and I'm not a psychologist but I did have someone read it that has a little experience in some of it to let me know if I was on the right track.

Stepping out of the room, Carlton found himself in what appeared to be a warehouse. There was a large open space dotted with various skids of boxes scattered around. He couldn’t see any windows from where he stood, but the space was fully lit by rows of fluorescent lights hung along the ceiling. There was some kind of office a few feet to his left. It was dark inside the room but he could see a computer monitor and a chair. Walking over to the office door, he looked in, hoping to see Shawn’s clothes or at least their phones. There was nothing.

Looking around again, he noticed an Exit sign hanging from the ceiling with a directional arrow. Carefully, listening for anything that would indicate the presence of anybody else in the area, Carlton followed the arrow’s direction, eventually finding a red man door. He pushed against the metal bar running across the center of the door, braced for the sudden bray of an alarm. There was no alarm however, and the door opened up onto darkness.

Standing in the doorway, Carlton looked around, searching for anything that might tell him where they were. Shadowed buildings stood poised against the night sky in every direction he looked. Some of them had a few lights here and there along their outer edges, but it wasn’t enough to help him figure out where he was. He did notice a car parked along the wall of the building he was standing in. As it was the only vehicle he could see anywhere, he had to assume it belonged to Eric and if it belonged to Eric, it was probably the vehicle that had been used to bring them here.

Carlton looked down, scanning the ground for something he could use to prop the door open. He didn’t want to risk getting locked out when he went to investigate the car. He saw a broken cinder block laying next to the door and used his foot to nudge the biggest chunk into place against the door. With that secured, he walked over to the car. A quick check proved it to be locked, so Carlton leaned in, peering through the windows. Relief flooded through him when he made out the shapes of two cellphones laying in the passenger seat.

Looking around again, Carlton found a small rock perfect for what he needed. As it picked it up, he suddenly realized the state that his hands were in. Both of his hands were torn and bleeding. There were areas that just seemed to be missing the first couple layers of skin while other areas sported relatively deep lacerations. He hadn’t realized the full extent of what he had done to them until that moment. When the rage had been set loose, he had felt no pain. Nor had he felt any pain when adrenaline had taken over for that rage. But now…now sans rage and sans adrenaline, he suddenly felt the pain. It hit hard, screaming through both hands and throbbing with each beat of his heart.

It took him a couple tries to break through the glass in the passenger side door and he wound up dropping the rock a couple times, swearing under his breath as the pain in his hands bit in hard. He finally got the safety glass to shatter and used his elbow to finish clearing it out of the door. Once clear, he reached in and grabbed the cell phones, immediately recognizing the pineapple phone case on Shawn’s that read ‘Psych’ on the back.

Other than the phones, the car appeared empty, so Carlton went back into the warehouse. Shawn was still laying where he had left him, still curled around himself, but his eyes were resting on Eric’s body. Carlton noticed how much blood had leaked out of him with Eric’s semen and he suddenly felt on the verge of throwing up. He paused a moment, fighting it. After it has passed, he knelt down next to Shawn, intentionally blocking his view of the body.

“I couldn’t find your clothes.” He said gently, setting the phones down. He started unbuttoning his shirt, “I’m going to put my shirt over you. Okay?”

Shawn nodded once and Carlton slipped his shirt off, carefully covering as much of Shawn’s private areas as he could. When the light fabric of the shirt touched Shawn’s battered skin, he jerked with a muted whimper. Carlton felt that rage course through him again and for a moment, he wanted to go and pummel the corpse laying behind him. Instead, he laid his hand over Shawn’s cheek, gently stroking the skin along his cheekbone, “I’m so sorry, Shawn.”

Shawn’s eyes had fluttered closed under Carlton’s touch but upon Carlton’s words, he opened them. That distant look that had worried him so much was gone, replaced by a sharp awareness. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but full of a conviction that Carlton had never heard before, “Listen to me, Lassie. You do **_NOT_** have anything to be sorry for. This was not your fault.”

Yet the guilt that Carlton felt was not eased by Shawn’s words. It was his fault. It was his fault for not talking to Shawn. It was his fault for not talking to the Chief.

Shawn’s gaze dropped to Carlton’s hand, almost making him look cross-eyed for a moment. He moved his head away from the hand and at the same time reached up to hold it. His touch was gentle and he lightly traced the wounds, “Lassie,” he almost whispered, “Your hand.”

“It’s fine.” Carlton said carefully taking his hand back. “I found our phones. I’m going to call for help.”

Shawn suddenly looked away from his again, staring at the floor near Carlton’s knee, “I don’t want anybody to see me like this.”

Carlton could hear the shame behind those words, “I have to call, Shawn. You’re hurt and I don’t know where we are.”

Shawn didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look at Carlton either.

“I promise we’re going to keep this as quiet as we can.”

Shawn only continued staring at the floor.

Carlton picked up his phone and called Juliet.

“Carlton!” she exclaimed by way of a greeting, “Where are you? I’ve been trying to…”

“Juliet,” he said, cutting her off in mid-sentence, “I need help.”

Apparently alerted to something in his tone, she immediately asked, “What do you need me to do?”

He took a steadying breath and forced the words out, “I need you to track my phone. I don’t know where we are. Then I need you to get the Chief. I don’t want anyone else right now.”

“Who’s we? Carlton, what…?”

“Please.” He said, and to his horror, his voice broke, “I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

There was a short pause and then Juliet said, “Okay.”

Carlton disconnected the call. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see this room anymore. He didn’t want to be _in_ this room anymore. He felt a hand creep into his and he curled his fingers around it, despite the pain that washed through from flexing his fingers. He sat there, holding Shawn’s hand and contemplating what he was going to tell Juliet and the Chief when they got here. Obviously, he was going to have to come clean. And how were they going to look at him once they knew the truth? Would they still see him as the strong Head Detective he had worked so hard to become? Or would he just become the emotional cripple that had allowed Shawn to be hurt so badly?

After what felt like an eternity, he heard Juliet’s voice calling for him from the warehouse.

“We’re in here!” Carlton called back, not attempting to get up. He was suddenly to exhausted to move.

Seconds later, Juliet appeared in the open doorway and gasped, “Oh my God! Carlton!”

The Chief appeared behind her and Carlton saw her eyes sweep around the room. Juliet hurried to him, kneeling down. She looked from Carlton to Shawn and he saw her eyes grow even wider as she took in Shawn’s condition. Carlton saw that blood had seeped through the shirt he had lain over Shawn. Juliet’s hand was trembling as she carefully lifted the edge of the shirt to look underneath. Carlton saw tears form in her eyes almost immediately and she gently lowered it again.

Chief Vick had first gone to Eric’s body and checked him for vitals before joining Juliet at Carlton’s side. For the first time since Carlton had met her, her expression was not one of stern authority.

“What happened here, Carlton?” her tone was concern and Carlton hated it. He didn’t deserve that concern.

Keeping his voice as steady as he could, Carlton explained. His narrative was halting and stilted, but he managed to get it all out.

“I don’t want everyone knowing.” He said as he came to the end of his story, “Shawn doesn’t need everyone knowing.”

“He needs to go to the hospital.” Juliet said quietly, “You both do.”

“Can’t I just go home?” Shawn pleaded, “I just want to go home.”

“You need to have a doctor look at you, Shawn.” Carlton said softly, trying not to look at the blood on his shirt.

Chief Vick glanced from Shawn to Eric’s body and the to Carlton, “I can keep most of this quiet. But I’m calling in an ambulance. You go to the hospital with Shawn. I’ll take care of things here and then I’ll meet you there. Okay?”

Carlton nodded as the Chief took out her phone. After getting an ambulance and the coroner on their way she said, “I’m going to go outside and wait for them.”

Carlton didn’t even bother to nod. He was looking at Shawn That distant look was back in his eyes and his hand had balled into a fist underneath Carlton’s hand. Juliet put her hand out to touch Carlton’s shoulder. He looked at her.

“I understand why you didn’t feel like you could trust me with this.” She said, “Please don’t ever feel that way again.”

He looked at her, hearing the earnestness in her tone and seeing the almost hurt expression on her features. “I promise I won’t keep anything from you again.”

She studied him a moment and then nodded. Silence fell between them and lasted until sirens could be heard approaching in the distance.


	10. Chapter Ten

Shawn lay on his side in the hospital bed staring vacantly at the wall. The flurry of activity was over. The lacerations from the leather strap had been cleaned and dressed. The ER doctor had examined him. He was a little confused about that because he remembered the nurse taking care of the lacerations but then there was a blank spot. The next thing he knew the doctor was telling him that there were several tears from Eric’s attack but he didn’t think they would require surgery or any special treatment aside from a stool softener.

Staring at the wall, feeling the low throbbing in his backside that was keeping time with his heartbeat, Shawn tried to relax, to maybe get some sleep. But every time his eyes drifted shut he would feel Eric’s hands on him as he forced himself inside. He would feel that sickening pulse and release that had caused his stomach to convulse with dry heaves.

Every muscle in his body was strung wire tight. He had seen them syringe a sedative into his IV when they had brought him to this room, so either he was too wired for it to work, or it hadn’t had enough time yet because he was definitely not feeling sedated. What he was feeling was fingers kneading the pain deeper into his punished flesh; hands gripping his waist hard enough to leave bruises. He could hear the grunts that Eric made with each thrust.

His stomach suddenly revolted on him again, threatening to expel anything it could. Shawn fought it down and had just claimed a narrow victory when the door to his room eased open. Shawn flicked his eyes toward the door, saw it was Gus, and returned his gaze to the wall. He was glad to see his friend, but who he really wanted to see was Carlton. They had gotten separated upon their arrival. Without his presence, Shawn felt vulnerable and he didn’t like it one little bit.

“You awake?” Gus whispered, taking a few steps into the room.

“Yeah.” Shawn replied.

Gus came in the rest of the way and then sat down on the chair next to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

Shawn didn’t feel like answering that question again. He’d already heard it one too many times tonight. But the almost desperate worry on Gus’s face forced him to say, “I’m okay.”

“I got here as soon as I could.” He said, “As soon as Juliet called me.”

“She tell you what happened?” Shawn asked. He was sure she had and even though he would never keep something like this from Gus, it was still too fresh. He didn’t know how Gus would react and he wasn’t at a point that he would be able to deal well if Gus went to pieces on him.

“Yeah. She did.” Gus said. Shawn could hear the emotion in Gus’s tone, but he didn’t appear to be getting ready to lose it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Shawn.”

Shawn flapped a hand at him, “I’m glad you weren’t. That guy was eight and a half steps beyond crazy. He would have killed you and taken me anyway.” He hesitated a moment and then asked, “Have you heard anything on Lassie? Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Juliet said he needed a few stitches in his hands but other than that he was okay. Physically, anyway.”

Shawn pulled his gaze away from the wall to look at Gus, his heart jumping up to beat somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I guess he’s pretty messed up over this whole thing. Do you remember what happened when you got to the hospital?”

Shawn frowned, thinking back. The ambulance came. They had put him on the gurney and loaded him into the ambulance. Carlton had gotten in as well and they had gotten to the hospital. The ER nurse tended to the lacerations. And then what? The only thing he remembered after that was the doctor talking to him. What had happened in that blank spot?

“No.” He said, trying to dig into that blankness. “What happened?”

“I guess you kind of freaked out on the doctor. And your freakout caused Lassiter to go damn near apocalyptic. He went after the doctor, yelling at him to leave you alone and stuff. They had to sedate both of you.”

“Wow.” Was all Shawn could manage. So that’s why he had a blank in his memory.

“Yeah, so when Juliet had a chance to talk to him later, he wouldn’t hardly say anything except how everything was his fault and you were hurt because of him. She said she’s pretty sure he was still partially sedated.”

“It’s not his fault.” Shawn said, “I told him that.”

“Yeah, but how would you feel if the situation was reversed?” Gus asked. “Would you be able to feel like it wasn’t your fault just because he said it wasn’t?”

Shawn didn’t answer. He was trying to work over everything Gus had just told him. He didn’t remember anything about freaking out. They must have hit him with a pretty heavy sedative. He realized at that point that he had to try his best to be normal around Carlton. The more Carlton keyed in on his discomfiture, the guiltier he was going to feel. The problem was, Shawn wasn’t at all sure that he could be normal. At least for a little while. It was too easy to overwhelmed by the memories of that experience. And his eidetic memory meant he would feel the same things he felt then, hear the same things he heard then, _think_ the same things he thought then.

And it was happening again before he realized it. This time he lost the battle with his stomach, but fortunately, he was already totally empty. He heard Gus gag a couple of times, but that was it. And then he was able to bring it under control again.

“You okay, buddy?” Gus asked after a few steadying breaths.

“Fine.” Shawn said, “Listen, I’m pretty tired. Why don’t you go on home and get some sleep? I’ll be okay.”

“You sure? I mean, I can stay…”

“I’m sure, Gus.” Shawn assured him.

“Well…okay.” Gus said doubtfully, “If you’re sure.”

Shawn nodded, “I’m sure, buddy.”

Gus put a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, patting him gently and then turned to leave. Shawn almost called him back as the idea of being alone again nearly caused an anxiety attack. But in the end, he said nothing. The idea of having Gus sitting there with him while he struggled to keep his mind in check made him feel ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but he did. He felt dirty and ashamed, and it wasn’t a dirt that he was going to be able to wash off no matter how many scalding hot showers he took.

His haze turned back to the wall and he tried to picture a great, white expanse of absolute nothingness. He was having very little success in making it happen when he saw his door start to open. There was a pause, and then it opened the rest of the way and Shawn felt his heart leap as Carlton came hesitantly into the room.

“Lassie!” Shawn greeted, forcing his tone to sound light and welcoming.

Carlton walked over to the bed. Shawn saw that both his hands were lightly bandaged and for the first time he noticed the large bruise on Carlton’s face. He suddenly remembered Eric punching him for not watching.

“How are you feeling?” Carlton asked approaching the bed in what Shawn could only describe as carefully.

“Feeling like I’m tired of getting asked that question.” Shawn replied sourly.

Carlton was silent, studying Shawn intently. Shawn gazed back at him as openly as he could. Those blue eyes were darker than normal, almost taking on a stormy grey appearance, and suddenly Shawn saw them as they had been only a few hours prior. In the fraction of a second between feeling Eric start to cum and the beginning of his dry heaving, his eyes had snapped open and he had found himself staring directly into Carlton’s eyes. And what he saw at that moment in time was burned into his memory like a brand.

Carlton wasn’t looking at him in that instant. His total and complete focus was on Eric. Those blue eyes that had so often reminded Shawn of a brilliant, cloudless sky and been so dark that the blue had almost been black. The rage and hate that had been visible at that exact moment in time was so primal and so deadly it was terrifying. And it existed solely because of what Eric was doing. It existed because Shawn was being hurt.

Shawn was suddenly filled with an awed wonder. Carlton’s actions had all been because of him. Carlton had nearly torn his own hands off to get to Eric. He had killed Eric with his bare hands; Had killed him for what he had done to Shawn. That awed wonder shot through him like a shockwave, at first causing his breath to catch in his throat and then sliding down to send a flurry of butterflies winging through his stomach.

“You save my life, Lassie.” Shawn managed to speak despite having that damn lump in his throat.

Carlton stared at him a moment before saying, “I let you get hurt.”

Shawn shook his head vehemently enough that it made him a little dizzy. “I told you, I walked right into his hideout.”

Carlton was silent again, watching Shawn with an intensity that, for once, Shawn couldn’t read. He case around for a joke or something witty to say, but his mind was utterly blank of everything except Carlton’s eyes right before he attacked  
Eric. Without thinking, he reached over and grasped Carlton’s forearm. They looked at each other silently, Carlton’s expression still a mystery to Shawn.

“So, when are we getting out of here, Lassiebear?” Shawn asked finally, breaking the silence.

“They’re keeping you overnight for observation.” Carlton said. “I’m already discharged.”

“What?” Shawn protested in his whiney voice, “No fair, Lassiebear! You can’t strand me here like the S.S. Minnow!”

His complaint almost managed to curve Carlton’s lips into a smile, but not quite.

“It’s a good idea.” He said, and the almost smile disappeared completely as he continue, “They did a few tests but they want to make sure they didn’t miss anything from…”

He trailed off and Shawn said, “From having some asshole’s dick shoved up my ass?” His tone was a lot harsher than he intended and he immediately felt guilty as Carlton’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Squeezing Carlton’s arm, he said, “Don’t make me climb the water tower and spray paint ‘Not Your Fault’ in John Deere Green.”

Carlton frowned, looking at him, “What?”

Shawn offered him a grin, “Never mind.”

“Can I get you anything?” Carlton asked, “Food? Clothes?”

“Nah.” Shawn said. He plucked at the hospital gown, “I got the height of fashion right here. I’ll need some clothes tomorrow though, when they let me go.” He thought about what it would feel like to try and put on a pair of jeans and said, “Sweats would be great.,”

“Okay. I’ll get you some.” Carlton agreed.

Shawn nodded and then asked in a voice that was much more timid than he would have liked, “Will you sit with me a little while, Lassie?”

For some reason, the idea of Carlton sitting there watching over him didn’t cause the same feelings of shame and embarrassment that he felt at the idea of Gus doing the exact same thing. Maybe because it was Carlton who had been there during everything. Or maybe it was because he knew now that Carlton liked him in a way Shawn had only been able to dream about before. Or maybe it was because of what Carlton had done to save him. Or maybe it was a combination of all of it. But, whatever the reason, the idea of Carlton sitting there made him feel safe.

Carlton studied him a moment and then nodded, “Okay.”

He sat down in the chair and adjusted it so his arm rested along the bed. Then he settled his hand gently over Shawn’s. Shawn snugged his fingers to interlace with Carlton’s ever so slightly. He was mindful of the injuries, not wanting to hurt Carlton as he sought comfort in the touch.

Carlton said nothing, simply sitting there quietly, offering exactly what Shawn needed. Within minutes, Shawn drifted off, his light grip on Carlton’s hand becoming lax.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Carlton watched Shawn drift off to sleep. His brain was in such a state of confusion that he could barely form a coherent thought. And his utter exhaustion wasn’t helping any. He felt like if he blinked for a second too long, he would simply pass out. But he knew that wasn’t the case. He had briefly tried to sleep while he was waiting to be discharged but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Shawn’s face, ashen from pain and his features warring between disgust and shame.

He needed to leave, to get as far away from Shawn as he could. He didn’t know how Shawn would ever be able to even look at him again without being reminded of what happened. How would they be able to ever work together again? Yes, he needed to leave. He could transfer to another police department somewhere and start over.

But the thought of leaving Shawn unprotected caused an almost nauseous burn to fill his stomach. It was his fault this happened and it was his responsibility to protect Shawn from the pain and fear he was feeling. It had been blatantly obvious that Shawn was trying to appear perfectly normal. And he wasn’t pulling it off. Carlton could see all of Shawn’s underlying emotions in those hazel eyes. He could hear it in the undertones of his voice. Carlton knew the physical pain would heal. The fear…that wasn’t going to disappear. At least for a while. The emotional pain wasn’t going to go away either. He couldn’t leave Shawn, the man who acted like Peter Pan more often than not in his insistence to never grow up, to fend for himself with all that.

Staring silently at Shawn’s hand laying underneath his, Carlton considered Shawn’s tone when he had asked Carlton to sit with him. It wasn’t forced as if looking at Carlton was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. It was almost shy, almost as if he really wanted Carlton to stay but was embarrassed to ask.

Carlton sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t try and figure any of this out until after he’d gotten some sleep. Maybe things would be a little clearer after his mind was allowed to rest. Deciding that was a good idea, he shifted in the chair until he found a comfortable position. Maybe it would even be possible to sleep now, knowing that Shawn was safe.

His eyes had just slipped closed when he heard the door open. He was on his feet and turning with the speed and silence of a cat toward whatever threat might be walking in. His brain managed to alert the rest of his body that it was the Chief before it did something truly craze…like punching her.

She was startled by his reaction but said nothing about it. Instead, she tipped her head toward the hall, indicating she wanted to see Carlton out there. He nodded and got up, easing his hand away from Shawn’s so as not to wake him, and followed her out. His heart was still racing as the door closed behind him and he willed it to slow as he faced the Chief.

“How is he?” she asked, once the door had shut.

“Good as can be expected, I guess.” Carlton said.

Chief Vick scrutinized him silently a moment before asking, “How are you doing?”

Carlton sighed, “I’m tired.”

“I want you to take some time off.” She said. He looked at her and had just opened his mouth to protest when she held up her hand and continued, “I spoke with Henry briefly on my way up here. He’s going to get in touch with Shawn’s Mom. She’s going to come here to council Shawn. I’m giving you a choice. You can make some appointments with our department psychologist, or you can talk to Ms. Spencer.”

“Chief, I don’t…”

She stopped him again, “That’s an order, Detective.”

“How long before I can come back to work?” Carlton asked, knowing he’d get nowhere trying to argue with her.

“When one of them says you’re ready. Now, in regards to what happened: I have been able to keep the incident as quiet as possible. There are only a select few people who know the truth about what happened and they all know to not say anything.”

“Thank-you, Chief.” Carlton said, never giving a more heart-felt thanks in his entire life.

Chief Vick nodded, “I’ll expect progress reports from whomever you decide to talk to.”

Carlton nodded.

The Chief turned and walked away. Carlton watched her back a moment and then returned to Shawn’s room. He sat down, laying his hand back on top of Shawn’s again. Now he had a whole other set of problems to worry about. He knew the Chief was making the only call she could, given the situation but, number one, he didn’t want to talk to anybody about his feelings. He was a closed person even before this whole situation had hit the fan and he certainly had no urge to spill his guts now. Number two, work was what helped him deal with things. Throwing himself into a case always helped him, even if it was more of a way to shunt issues away from his thoughts where he could eventually bury them.

But he was aware that some of his thought processes had been malfunctioning quite badly since everything had started. And he did know that his feelings toward Eric were wrong and unhealthy. It probably was best if he talked to somebody. And that somebody would have to be Ms. Spencer. He’d talked to her before and he had genuinely liked her, even after he found out she was Shawn’s Mom.

Feeling a little dizzy from all the tired thoughts bouncing around in his head, Carlton closed his eyes. Sleep was almost immediate.

* * *

Carlton became aware of the room around him in neither a slow dissolve nor a sudden burst. He was just there. And his stomach gave a sickening lurch. He was handcuffed to the table in front of him, eye level with Shawn, who was laid out in front of him, naked and terrified. Eric was behind Shawn and Carlton tried to scream at him but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a near silent ‘gah’ noise. Eric smiled at him and Carlton suddenly realized he had a gun in his hand. He set the muzzle against the back of Shawn’s head.

“Lassie!” Shawn yelled, his eyes pleading for help.

Carlton tried to scream again, still unable to produce sound. He rattled and pulled against the handcuffs but couldn’t free himself.

“Lassie!” Shawn yelled again as the hammer pulled back on the gun.

Carlton was still yanking frantically at the handcuffs when the gun went off. But instead of seeing Shawn’s head explode, he snap-jerked into a darkened room with someone shaking his arm hard.

“Lassie!” Shawn said, “Come on. Wake up.”

Looking around wildly for a few seconds, Carlton struggled to understand what was happening and where he was. He recognized the hospital room. Shawn was leaning up on one elbow shaking Carlton’s arm urgently. Once he began to recognize his environment, he realized he must have been dreaming. He flopped back in the chair, breathing heavily.

“You okay, Las?” Shawn asked, looking at him worriedly.

Carlton nodded and managed to say, “Yeah. I’m good.”

Looking like he didn’t really believe him, Shawn none-the-less let go of his arm and lay back down. “Bad dream?”

Carlton nodded.

“Was it your Grandma or the Chief?”

Carlton’s brow creased into a frown, “What?”

“Well,” Shawn said, “When I scream like that in my sleep, it’s because either my Grandma or the Chief just walked into my bedroom while I was naked.”

Carlton found himself half grinning, even though he knew Shawn was only trying to make him feel better.

“Usually I’m naked in class and forgot my report.” Carlton said, forcing the words and trying to peel his mind away from the image of Eric holding a gun to Shawn.

Shawn smiled, but it was tight, not like his normal, natural smile, “I always forgot my reports. Just ask my Dad.”

Carlton glanced at his watch. It wasn’t quite five in the morning. He was still tired, but had no desire to go back to sleep at the moment. Since Shawn was awake and didn’t look like he was ready to sleep either, Carlton said, “I talked to the Chief while you were sleeping.” He said.

Shawn tensed, apparently expecting bad news. “Yeah? What did she say?”

“I’m on temporary leave, but she said she was ablet o keep everything quiet.”

“Why’d she put you on leave?” Shawn asked, sounding a little angry, “It wasn’t your fault and…”

“Shawn, hold on.” Carlton said putting his hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture. “That’s not the reason why.”

“Well then what is it?”

“She wants me to talk to a professional about what happened. Shawn, your Dad called your Mom.”

Shawn started to say something, maybe to protest, but he cut him off.

“The Chief gave me a choice between her and the department’s psychologist. I chose her. We got along fairly well when she did my evaluation.” He hesitated, “I think you should talk to her as well.”

“I don’t want to talk to my _Mom_ about this.” Shawn said, plucking at the sheet on his bed. “Geez, Lassie. That’s like, I don’t know. It’s just not something you talk to your Mom about.”

“Look, I know I don’t really have the right to say this, but it’s not going to be good for you to just bottle up what happened.”

“Lassie, I’ll be fine. Okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Carlton looked at him; looked at the fear and shame that was lingering just under the surface where Shawn apparently didn’t think he could see. The lie was so transparent, Carlton thought anybody would be able to see it if they could just get a look into his eyes. But he didn’t want to push him. At least right now.

“Okay.” He said softly, placing his hand back on Shawn’s.

“So!” Shawn exclaimed, “When does the doctor come let me out of here? It’s almost six. He should be here by now, right?”

“I don’t know when he makes his rounds.” Carlton said.

“Will you go get me some clothes so I’m ready?”

Carlton nodded, “I don’t know where you live though.”

Shawn rattled off his address. “It’s an old dry cleaners.”

“You live at a dry cleaners?” Carlton asked, “Why?”

Shawn gave a one shoulder shrug, “Rent was right.”

Carlton stared at him a moment, trying to figure out how he felt about that. Finally, shaking his head, he said, “Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit. You’ll be okay?”

“Fine as a daisy.”

“That’s fresh as a daisy.” Carlton said, “And don’t you dare say you’ve heard it both ways.”

Shawn’s mouth snapped shut, a little smirk up ticking the corner of his mouth.

Carlton suppressed a grin and left the room. He was moving through the waiting room heading for the hospital exit, when he saw Henry sitting in one of the chairs. He was sitting silently, hands linked together and resting on his stomach. He was staring at the wall in front of him, motionless.

“Henry?” Carlton asked, taking a few steps in his direction.

Henry started and looked up at him, “Carlton. What are you doing here?”

“I was up with Shawn.” Carlton said. He almost came up with an excuse of getting his statement, but if Henry knew Shawn was in the hospital, he would also know why.

“Have you been up to see him?” He asked, thinking maybe Henry had popped in while Carlton had been napping.

“No, uhm, no I haven’t.” Henry replied, sounding nervous and rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh…wasn’t sure he’d want to see me.” He finished.

Carlton nodded, understanding. But he realized there was a possibility that Shawn would be able to talk to Henry better than his Mom and so he said, “You should go see him.”

Henry nodded, “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will. Is he awake?”

Carlton nodded, “He just ask me to go get some clothes for him so he’ll be ready when the doctor releases him.”

Henry nodded again.

“I’ll be back in a little while.” Carlton said, continuing his way out of the hospital.

He wondered how long Henry had been sitting there in the waiting room. While Carlton had no room to judge, he thought those two had a very odd father/son relationship. On the other hand, at least there _was_ a relationship. That was more than Carlton could claim. Shaking his head, he got in the car and headed to Shawn’s apartment.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some interaction between Shawn and his Dad. I really hope I got this believable. It's hard to do heartfelt between these two.

Shawn watched Carlton leave and sighed. Almost as soon as the door closed, Shawn felt his sense of security disappear. Even Shawn, who shunned adult thinking as much as possible, realized those thoughts and feelings weren’t healthy. He couldn’t expect (and _shouldn’t_ expect) Carlton to stay by his side 24/7. For now, he told himself that his sense of security would return the further away from the Event time moved him. And what did he have to worry about anyway? Eric was dead. And he was dead because Carlton had protected Shawn. He tried not to think about the fact that Eric had still gotten far enough to have his way with him, had humiliated and used him…

His stomach convulsed on him again, scattering this thoughts as he was forced to lean over the side of the bed. His stomach was, if possible, even emptier than it had been before, and the only thing that actually came up was air tainted with the sour taste of bile.

When a hand touched his back, that sour bile taste suddenly became laced with the bitter taste of fear. Regardless of the fact that the touch was almost gentle, Shawn felt the harsh touch of phantom fingers that gripped bruises into his skin. His scream was involuntary as he twisted away from the hand.

“Shawn!” he hard his Dad’s voice, “Hey, it’s me, Kid. It’s okay.”

Shawn was able to stop himself from flailing after only a couple swings toward the body that went with the hands.

“It’s okay.” His Dad said again, sitting on the edge of the bed, “Calm down, Kid.”

Shawn was trying but he couldn’t seem to breath in anything more than short gasps and he was shaking from head to toe. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had wound up on his ass at some point during his flailing and the pain coming from there was huge. He turned back on his side quickly, which caused him to coil around his Dad’s body where he still sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m okay.” He finally managed.

“I’m sorry, Kid. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shawn shook his head, intended to tell his Dad it was okay, no big deal. But what actually happened was tears started to flood his eyes and roll down his cheeks. _Well, fuck._

“M’not crying.” He said, brushing at the tears angrily, “They’ve been sending essence of jalapeno through the vents all night.”

Henry said nothing as he watched Shawn slowly bring himself under control. It was awkward, but not as awkward as Shawn would have expected. There was a glimmer of something in Henry’s eyes that Shawn had never seen before. It resembled pain but it wasn’t a pain that Shawn recognized. Being childless with the intention of never having children, he couldn’t recognize the pain of a parent who is watching their child, not matter how old that child might be, go through something that they can’t just fix.

After a while, once Shawn had gotten control again, Henry said, “Carlton said you were awake and I should come up.”

“Yeah.” Shawn said, “I asked him to get me some clothes for when the doc lets me out of here.”

Henry nodded and moved over to sit in the chair. “I, uh, talked to him a little bit last night. Good guy. I’ve known him since my detective days. He’s worked on a couple of my guys before. Fredrickson, you remember him? He got shot in the leg back before he made detective. I think ol’ Doc Waters actually did his…”

“Dad,” Shawn said, cutting off his rambling, “It’s okay.”

Henry looked at him a moment in silence before saying, “No, it’s not okay, Shawn. I tried to prepare you for anything you might run across as a cop. But this? How could I have prepared you for this? How could I even…”

“Dad.” Shawn stopped him again. He could feel the emotions rolling off Henry in waves and it took all he had to keep his voice steady. How the hell did a thing like this make so many people feel guilty when they had nothing to do with it? “You did everything you needed to do. You taught me everything you needed to teach me. This?” He gestured vaguely at himself and the hospital room, “This is the result of a psychopathic bastard. How often did you tell me that psychopaths were dangerous because they don’t think like normal people? News flash, Dad. We are normal people.” He paused, considering that a moment and then amended, “We’re semi-normal people. None of us could have known what he planned. I was betting on just outright killing me myself. So just…don’t.”

Shawn heard the hardened edge to his tone. He supposed is some way he should be thankful he had people that cared enough about him to feel guilty about this. But he wasn’t. In some obscure way, having his Dad, and to a lesser extent Carlton, feeling guilty humiliated him even more than he already was. While what he needed from Carlton was different, what he needed from everyone else was to just be normal around him and not treat him like he had some incurable disease that was killing him.

Henry looked at him for several more moments before nodding ever so slightly. “Doc Waters said you’d probably be out of here early this morning.”

“Good deal.” Shawn said, and then completely changing the subject asked, “So did you hear my latest ‘vision’ weeded out the White Wolf?”

Henry raised an eyebrow, “Really? I’ve heard he’s a pretty nasty piece of work. What’s the case?”

“String of home invasions.” Shawn said. “Doesn’t make sense to me though. This guy works for the mob and he decides to risk it all on home invasions?”

Henry tilted his head side to side as he settled back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. Shawn sighed inwardly, recognizing their regular pattern of interaction, “I’ve seen stranger. I popped an up and coming serial killer once when he knocked off a gas station. They asked him why he did it. Knowing the witness could identify him. Know what he said? He was in the mood for Chinese and had left his wallet at home.”

Shawn laughed in spite of himself. “I have to talk to Jules and find out how good the info was. I was supposed to go with them to check it out, but I got a little sidetracked.”

They were interrupted when the doctor came in. “Morning, Henry.” He greeted and then looked at Shawn.

_If he asks me how I’m feeling, I’m going to scream_ Shawn thought.

“You seem to be a little more alert this morning, Shawn.” He said instead, and Shawn mentally sighed in relief, “How’s the pain?”

“I haven’t really talked to it lately.” He quipped, “Probably home with the wife, hanging out with all the little painlettes.”

The doctor looked at him, appearing to be trying not to smile, “Definitely in a little better spirit.”

“Yeah, I hear I caused a little bit of a scene.” Shawn replied, “Sorry about that.”

“You weren’t nearly the trouble your friend was.” The doctor said, “I think he really intended to hurt me.” He paused slightly, looking at the paperwork in his hand, “Now, seriously, how’s the pain?”

Shawn, feeling like he had been punched in the gut by the doctor’s words said, “It’s fine as long as I don’t lay on it.”

The doctor nodded, writing something on the paperwork. “I think you’ll be fine to head home. The nurse will give you some after visit instructions. Any questions I can answer for you?”

“No.” Shawn replied shaking his head, “Thanks.”

“Okay.” The doctor said, “Good seeing you again, Henry.”

Once the doctor had left, Shawn looked at Henry. Heart to hearts weren’t something they had ever been good at, but he needed to talk to someone and out of his choices, his Dad was the best one for this topic. “I’m worried about Lassie, Dad.”

Henry returned his gaze steadily, shifting only slightly as he said, “You really like him, don’t you?”

Shawn was surprised to hear his Dad say that. While Henry knew that Shawn was bi, it was never something they had actually talked about. It had almost been an unspoken agreement between them. So to hear his Dad make that statement so bluntly threw Shawn off balance. His shocked silence seemed to be the answer to his Dad’s question.

“I’ve suspected it for a long time now.” Henry said, “I mean, honestly Shawn, you act like a little boy pulling on the pigtails of some little girl you like when you’re around him.”

Shawn accepted the statement with a shrug, “Yeah, maybe. But I am really worried about him, Dad. Did you hear what happened when we got to the hospital?”

Henry nodded, “The Chief told me.”

“And he won’t get passed blaming himself. How do I help him, Dad? I don’t want him to feel guilty every time he looks at me. I try to be my normal self around him, but I can tell he doesn’t buy it.”

Henry was silent a moment and Shawn could see he was trying to formulate a response despite the uncomfortableness of the conversation. “I think what you need to remember, Son, is this is all like brand new. For you, that doesn’t make a difference because it will always be like brand new. But for Carlton, things will start to fade out a little bit. Still, I gotta be honest, Shawn, Carlton is going to need help that you can’t give him.”

“Lassie said Mom’s coming and the Chief told him he had to talk to her and be cleared before he can go back to work.”

Henry nodded, hesitated, and then said, “I think you should talk to her too.”

Shawn felt himself blush. For some reason it felt even more embarrassing having his Dad suggest it than it was when Carlton suggested it. “I can’t talk to her about this, Dad. Parents and kids aren’t supposed to discuss stuff like that.”

“She’s still a professional.” Henry reminded him, “And what happened…Son, I can tell you why Carlton doesn’t buy your cheerful, happy act. I can see the effects myself. It’s in your eyes and body language. The two things I taught you to always look at first with someone. You can say whatever you want and use whatever tone you want, but those two don’t lie. You’re scared and you’re ashamed and I know that Carlton’s picking up on that just like any good detective would.”

Shawn sighed, his gaze falling to the arm of the chair where his Dad was sitting. He had honestly thought he was doing okay hiding it. After all, almost everything he did in life was hidden by misdirection. Knowing that his misdirection wasn’t working for this sent a shock of fear through him, making him feel as exposed to the world as he had been to Eric. Without the misdirection, the world would be able to see his shame and humiliation. It would be able to see how Eric had degraded and used him. And fuck if he wasn’t crying again.

Henry was again silent as Shawn struggled to bring himself under control and Shawn could feel him watching. Oddly enough, however, he wasn’t as embarrassed as he thought he would be. Perhaps it was because of that pain he had glimpsed in his Dad’s eyes, or perhaps it was because as uncomfortable as the conversation could have been, his Dad had been open and honest. And, aside from the short burst of babbling in the beginning, he had reminded Shawn of the Dad he had known years and years ago when he was just a small child. Before he had decided to try and turn Shawn into a supercop.

“Can Mom help Lassie?” he asked finally.

“I’m sure she can.” Henry replied almost gently and with a confidence Shawn wished he felt.

The conversation was interrupted when the door opened and Carlton walked in holding a paper bag and followed by a nurse with a clipboard full of papers. Henry stood up and said, “I’m going to go ahead and head home.” He looked at Shawn and his tone was firm when he said, “Call me if you need anything, Shawn.”

Shawn nodded.

Henry left, nodded at Carlton before disappearing out the door. Carlton set the bag down in the chair as the nurse said, “Okay, Mr. Spencer. I’m going to get the IV out of your arm, have you sign some papers, and get you on your way.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘Mr. Spencer’.” Shawn said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m still way to young and my hair is way to fabulous to be a mister.”

He saw Carlton smile briefly as the nurse said, “Oh, you’re one of those people.” Her tone was jovial and she continued, “Okay, _Shawn_. Let me see your arm.”

“Better.” Shawn said with a nod.

He offered her his arm. She put on a pair of latex gloves and easily pulled out the needle that was feeding saline into his veins. Sticking a gauze pad on the needle mark and securing it with a band aid, she dropped the needle in the appropriate container and picked up the clipboard again. Shawn thought he detected a note of sympathy in her tone as she said, “I have some instructions for you.”

Shawn felt a sudden flush of anger. Even strangers were treating him like a fragile china doll. He said nothing, though, and the only outward sign of his anger was the fist he made, gripping the blanket that was covering him until his knuckles turned white. The nurse didn’t seem to notice, but Shawn saw Carlton glance down at the fist with a little frown.

“You’ll need to take a stool softener for a couple of weeks.” The nurse said, reading the paperwork on the clipboard. “We don’t want any kind of straining that might make the tearing worse.”

Shawn’s stomach lurched at her words. Tearing. He had tears because of Eric. Because of what Eric had done. He again felt the phantom hands that had dug their fingers into his skin, bruising him as pain ripped through him so sharp that it stole his breath as Eric forced himself inside.

He was close to having another bought of dry heaves when a hand settled gently on his, the one that was still fisted around the blanket. He looked up to see Carlton’s blue, blue eyes resting on him, concerned yet comforting. Gazing into those twin pools of comfort, Shawn felt his stomach settle, easing away from those convulsions it was so close to executing.

The nurse, oblivious to what was going on between her patient and the Head Detective, continued. “You’re also going to want to keep the lacerations covered for a few days. Change the covering at least one a day and apply antibiotic cream to keep them from getting infected.”

She handed the clipboard to Shawn. He glanced at it, seeing a large X next to the line that read ‘patient’s signature’. “Sign my life away?” He asked, looking up at the nurse.

“Signature and date.” She agreed.

Shawn struggled into a position that allowed him to write and he signed his name with a flourish. Handing the clipboard back to the nurse he said, “There you go nurse. I even signed my real name just for you.”

The nurse separated out the paperwork and handed some back to Shawn, “Remember to call if you have any problems or have any questions.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shawn sketched her a small salute.

After she had left, Shawn rolled over onto his feet.

“Your sweatpants were all dirty.” Carlton said as Shawn picked the bag up from the chair. “So I bought a new pair for you.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, “I might’ve missed the last couple laundry days. You didn’t have to go buy me some though.”

Carlton simply shrugged as Shawn went into the bathroom to change. He called over his shoulder as the door closed, “Can’t say I’m looking forward to the ride home, thought.”

“Maybe you can just lay down in the backseat.” Carlton said, his voice reaching Shawn through the door.

Shawn didn’t reply as he stripped off the hospital gown. Opening the bag, he found that Carlton had also brought him a shirt and a pair of shoes. The shoes were his. The shirt looked brand new. Shawn eased himself into the sweats, managing to avoid any sudden flares of pain. After slipping into the shirt and shoes as well, he left the bathroom.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said, heading for the door.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lengthy wait on getting this one out. Seems for every page I write and re-write it five or six times. This work has turned out to be a little harder to pull off than I thought it would be.

Shawn lay on the couch watching the television with one eye and the oncoming darkness outside his windows with the other. There was a low throb coming from his backside but he found it was receding slightly. He had taken some ibuprofen he had found in his medicine cabinet and it seemed to help the situation.

Carlton had left to go home nearly four hours ago and Shawn had felt his anxiety slowly cranking up every since. He tried to identify the exact course of the anxiety, but it seemed to be coming from multiple, albeit unrealistic, thoughts that were running rampant through his mind. The logical part of his brain told him how unrealistic they were, yet the baser part of him, the part that stored all of his instinctual feelings and emotions, seemed to be trumping that logical part, diluting it until is was almost non-existent.

Eric was dead. He had watched Carlton kill him, had spent what seemed like an eternity staring at the unmoving corpse while Carlton had been out trying to get help. Yet every time there was the slightest noise that didn’t come from the television, he was listening for footsteps approaching from behind. Every shadow that flittered across his windows had him scanning the darkness for the phantom silhouette of a person. It was completely ridiculous and he seemed to have zero control over it. _Thank goodness I don’t have a backdoor,_ he thought, _I’d work myself right into a heart attack_.

The episode of Magnum PI he was watching ended and with a sigh he began flipping through the channels looking for something else to occupy him. He thought about texting Gus and seeing if he wanted to have a movie night, but as much as he didn’t want to be alone, he found he didn’t really want Gus there either. He didn’t think he could actually keep up with any of the inane conversations their movie nights usually resulted in. And he was sure that an inability to come up with something when a movie plot left an opening would cause Gus to worry over him. He couldn’t deal with a worried Gus when he could barely deal with himself.

There was a sudden flash of light outside the window, bright enough to throw shadows everywhere inside his living room while erasing every shadow from the world outside. He jumped, completely unable to identify the flash in the moment as panic raced through him. Adrenaline flooded his system in a heated wave causing his scalp to prickle and his breathing to become fast and shallow. He was half-way off the couch when the thunder split the darkened sky with a furious crack followed by a long, low roll that seemed to go on forever.

“Sweet Jolly Green Giant.” He said aloud trying to ignore the tremor in his voice, “It’s a thunderstorm. Get a grip on yourself and chill.”

But the harder he tried, the less control he seemed to have. By the time the rain began, falling in a deluge that would have impressed Noah, the flood of adrenaline had saturated his system to the point he was barely able to think, controlling his fight or flight by just the tips of his fingers and they were slipping.

He was angry at his inability to control himself, but it was faint, unimportant. When the roar of a motorcycle sped past, the rider no doubt trying to get to his destination and out of the rain fast, his fingertip hold slipped and he shot to his feet, scanning the area behind him as the illogical part of his brain insisted Eric was sneaking up behind him under the covering sound of that roaring engine.

There was, of course, no one there. But seeing the apartment devoid of any intruder didn’t seem to dam the adrenaline flow. Feeling the last of his willpower disintegrate, Shawn grabbed his phone. He debated only briefly before sending text versus calling. Somehow, enough of his thinking self was operating enough for him to know if he called, Carlton would hear the panic in his voice and he didn’t want that. He only wanted proof that Carlton was there.

_Some crazy weather eh, Lassie?_

Staring at the phone fisted tightly in his hand, he willed Carlton to answer him. After about 30 eternal seconds, Carlton’s message came through, _Yes. Radar’s showing a pretty big system going over._

_Gus asked me to come hold his hand_ Shawn texted back _Told him not to be Bob._

Shawn had no doubt that Carlton wouldn’t catch that movie reference. He wasn’t even sure why he made it. Carlton wasn’t well known for his ability to understand a lot of normal human interactions, hence why he’d chased dates away with his dead clown story. Of course that made the normal banter that went on between Shawn and Gus nothing more than Venusian gibberish. But Shawn couldn’t say what he wanted which was simply ‘I’m scared and would like you to come over’. So, he improvised.

Sure enough, Carlton’s next text was _Who is Bob?_

Shawn was glad Carlton couldn’t hear his hands tremble because it was bad enough that finding the right letters was difficult. _No, it’s What About Bob. Haha. What RU doing?_

There was a longer pause before Carlton’s next text came through. Shawn could see him staring at his phone with that frown of his trying to figure out the whole ‘Bob’ think. Finally, another text came through. _Jut watching TV. Everything OK?_

_Right as rain. HAHA_

A few minutes later, another text came through _What are you doing?_

Shawn almost grinned. Leave it to Carlton to not shorthand texts. Unthinkingly, he plopped down on the couch. The pain was monstrous and immediate. He bolted back to his feet, swearing. He was standing with every muscle tightened in an effort to ease the pain level back down when a flash of purple-white light turned the darkness outside his windows into a blindingly bright pyrotechnic display. Three things happened almost simultaneously as Shawn’s gaze jerked toward the windows. The first thing was his apartment being plunged into utter blackness save for his phone screen. The second and third were simultaneous. He briefly smelled the acrid burn of ozone as a blast every bit as loud as a bomb rattled the panes of glass in every window. Already on edge, the peal of thunder caused him to drop his phone so forcefully it was almost a throw and he uttered a very unmanly scream.

In the silence following the unholy thunder blast, Shawn heard the tempo of the falling rain, unbelievably, pick up, coming down even harder than before. He stood frozen, surrounded by a darkness that no longer held the simple sounds of modern society with his backside throbbing angrily. His heart was beating jack-rabbit fast in his chest and by the time coherent thought actually returned to him and he went to pick up his phone, the screen had timed out, leaving it a black object hiding in the darkness around him.

Sinking to his knees, Shawn began feeling around, looking for his phone and his one life line to Carlton. After what felt like an eternity, his left hand finally brushed up against the phone causing the screen to burst into life. Grabbing it, he stood up, quickly re-reading Carlton’s last text and answering _Nothing now. Power just went out_ He added a couple emoticons, one a scowling smiley face and one with a crying smiley face.

Carlton’s next text was short, coming mere seconds after Shawn had sent his. Two words: _You good?_

Shawn stared at those two words, his thoughts sprinting through his mind so fast he could barely process them. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t even close to good and he had no real idea why. For what seemed the thousandth time he told himself that Eric was dead. It wasn’t like he had an unknown assailant after him that could simply appear out of the shadows at any time. And yet the illogical part of his mind was more than happy to point out how Eric had managed to come up behind him without Shawn having the slightest idea that he was there. That part of his mind heard phantom footsteps and felt phantom fingers and remembered what it had felt like to regain consciousness stark naked and spread out across a table like he was a piece of meat. It was that part of his mind that soberly informed him that if Eric could do it, anybody could do it. _Anybody_ could get the upper hand by simply sneaking up behind him with a gun.

Of course, there was no reason for just anybody to do that. The logical part of his mind knew it. Eric had come after him with a singular sick intent and purpose. And it wasn’t even Shawn he was really after. Shawn was just a tool to get at Carlton. _Carlton has a lot of enemies,_ his illogical mind told him. What if another one of them harbored deeply hidden psychopathic tendencies and could at any moment decide Eric’s route was a good way to exact revenge? Or what if Carlton was harboring other secrets to his past that might decide to use him as a tool?

_That’s it. Stop it right the hell there_ His logical mind finally broke free and practically shouted. Carlton was not going to allow any one else to hurt him like that again. It was an absolutely ridiculous thought and a totally insane fear. And if he couldn’t figure out how to get a hold on it, he was going to be absolutely useless as a psychic detective.

Yet here he was, standing in his darkened apartment listening for footsteps coming up behind him.

A sudden pounding on his door caused him to jump and drop his phone again. This time, it landed several feet away and thank goodness his floors were carpeted. Before the adrenaline could send him into flight mode, he heard Carlton’s voice, firm and demanding, “Shawn? It’s me. Open up.”

Shawn shakily made his way to the door on legs that felt like they were made of jelly. Opening the door, he found Carlton standing there, completely drenched, with worry creasing his forehead and tightening his features.

“Are you okay?” He asked as soon as Shawn opened the door.

Shawn tried to smile, tried to control himself. It did absolutely no good. He grabbed Carlton, hugging him tightly, almost desperately. He felt Carlton tense for just a moment and then relax as he gently settled his arms around Shawn.

“Take it easy, Shawn.” Carlton said, resting his chin on top of Shawn’s head, “Just breath. You’re okay.”

Shawn realized his breath was coming to him fast and shallow. He focused on Carlton’s lanky form as he hugged him, trying to level out his breathing and not hyperventilate. It took several long moments for him to start to regain control. When he finally centered himself enough, he stepped back, suddenly realizing with some shock that Carlton had suddenly materialized at his door.

“What are you doing here, Lassie? It’s pouring cows and chickens out there.”

Carlton stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and apparently choosing to ignore Shawn’s miss on the old adage. Shawn saw him hesitate a beat before saying, “You stopped answering my texts. I got worried.”

Shawn felt a little confused at Carlton’s answer. “It was just one question, Lass. I was getting to it.”

Carlton’s frown deepened, “I sent you five texts and you didn’t answer any of them.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Shawn said, retrieving his phone and unlocking it. “They must not have come…” He trailed off as the phone went back to the last thing he was doing, which was texting with Carlton.

He scrolled down the chat, frowning and his stomach slowly rolled over. Carlton had, indeed, sent more than his last question that Shawn had read, and according to the timestamps, more than fifteen minutes in total had passed with Carlton’s one-sided conversation.

_You good?_

_Shawn, you good?_

_Is everything okay?_

_Answer me, Spencer_

_Spencer, answer me or I’m coming over_

Shawn just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact he had zoned out so completely he hadn’t seen those messages, despite the fact he was standing there looking at the screen.

“I’m sorry, Lassie.” He said finally, “I…I think I fell asleep while we were texting.”

Carlton studied him intently and Shawn wasn’t sure he particularly liked the look on the Head Detective’s face. He shifted uncomfortably and when Carlton spoke, "Don't lie to me, Shawn." his voice was soft yet his tone was hard an uncompromising. It was so similar to the voice eh had used so often back in the early years of them working together, almost a growl. But at the same time it was different because the concern camouflaged underneath the hardness was completely genuine and it sent a wave of warmth surging across Shawn’s body. He wanted to pull that concern around him like a blanket and just hide. But he couldn’t.

“Okay, fine.” He said, turning away from Carlton and, trying hard to keep his tone light and dismissive said, “I might have gotten a little freaked out when the power took a vacation. But I’m okay, Lassie. I just kind of zoned out for a minute.”

Shawn almost plopped down on the couch again but fortunately one of the lacerations decided to give off a throbbing sting and instead of sitting, Shawn walked behind it to lean against its back. He met Carlton’s eye. It was hard seeing that mixture of emotion on the Head Detective. But, he managed to lock his gaze and keep it locked.

Carlton was thinking hard. Shawn didn’t even have to use his ‘psychic’ power to see that. He was tossing something around in the beautiful Irish head of his and looking for the best way to say whatever it was he was thinking about. For several moments he just looked at Shawn silently. They he said something that floored Shawn, rendering him speechless.

“Do you want to come stay at my house for a little bit? I can help with the dressing changes and I still have power.” Although the words were earth-shattering as far as Shawn was concerned, the tone they were spoken in was insecure and hesitant.

“Are you really sure you want that?” Shawn asked, “I hear I’m a lousy house guest. Gus says I talk to much and make a mess.”

“I’m sure.” Carlton said, and this time there was no hesitation.

Shawn considered it a moment longer. A voice in his head that he wasn’t used to hearing very often threw up a warning that he needed to be careful with Carlton right now. The Head Detective had been through a lot in a very short time and as such may not be thinking quite normally. But Shawn had been through a lot too and the thought of being by himself in the dark was just a little bit more than he felt like he could deal with at the moment.

“Okay, Lassie.” He said, “You twisted my arm.”

Carlton nodded, looking somewhat relieved.

“Let me grab some clothes.” Shawn said, turning on the flashlight on his phone.

He went back into his bedroom and tossed some clothes in a knapsack, including his dirty sweats. He figured Carlton would let him wash them there. Walking back into the living room, he put his Xbox in the knapsack as well.

“What’s that?” Carlton asked, nodded toward where the Xbox had disappeared.

“’What’s that’?” Shawn repeated incredulously, “’What’s _that’_? That’s only the singular most amazing gaming system ever. How do you not know what an Xbox is?”

“I don’t play games.” Carlton replied matter-of-factly.

The door was wide open, but Shawn didn’t walk through it this time. Blaming it on recent events, he simply said, “You might like some of them. Even my Dad’s been known to play a game or two.”

“Huh.” Carlton said, “Maybe I’ll have to check them out. You ready?”

“Ready.” Shawn said and followed Carlton out of the apartment and into the rain.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, a little bit of filler highlighting Shawn and Carlton learning a little bit about interacting with each other post incident. I hope everyone continues to enjoy.

When Carlton unlocked his door and Shawn stepped into the house, he flashed briefly to that confusing moment he had regained consciousness after coming face to face with Eric. He had recognized his surroundings almost immediately, even though he hadn’t been in Carlton’s place since the incident with Drimmer. Yet another time when he’d had a gun pointed at him.

Drimmer had scared him. He had no doubt then or now that Drimmer would have killed him if Carlton hadn’t had that gun hidden in the pistachios. Score one for being paranoid. But even in that instant, Shawn hadn’t felt the same depth of fear that he had felt restrained and waiting for Carlton with Eric’s gun nestled under his jaw. Eric seemed to radiate malice from every pore and that malice rolled over Shawn like the bitterest winter wind, freezing him with an undefined terror.

“You want a beer or something?” Carlton asked, pulling Shawn away from the dark path he had started down.

He watched as Carlton slipped out of his coat and shook the water from it onto the floor mat, “No. I’m good.”

Carlton nodded as he hung his coat on the hall tree, “Okay. Make yourself to home. I’m gonna go get some dry clothes on.”

Carlton headed towards the back of his house where the bedroom was. Shawn went into the living room, unable to stop himself from glancing at the floor where Eric had staged him for Carlton to find. He was able to keep his thoughts from running away on him again, but he did wonder for a brief moment how Carlton knew they were there. He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask, but there was no doubt in Shawn’s mind that Carlton had known. He had come into the house on full guard. His gun may have still been in its holster, but Shawn had noted the holster was unsnapped, ready for quick access.

Shivering involuntarily, Shawn set his knapsack on the floor next to the couch and eased himself down to lie on the plush cushions. Although he had opted to lie down in the backseat of Carlton’s car, the deep throbbing from his backside had gotten worse during the ride. The television was already on. Apparently, Carlton had been watching it before leaving for Shawn’s apartment. He didn’t recognize the show but he the couch was offering him some comfort and he didn’t feel like giving it up just to find the remote.

He was only staring at the moving pictures of whatever documentary was on without absorbing any of what was being said when Carlton came out of the bedroom. There was some rattling from the kitchen as he poured himself a scotch on the rocks and then he walked into the living room and plopped own into the recliner. Shawn did a double take when he realized the Head Detective was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with ‘Academy’ printed in blue up on leg and a simple white V-neck T-shirt that displayed the stern bush Shawn had commented on so many times.

Carlton sipped his scotch and the noticed Shawn was staring at him, “What?”

Shawn shook his head with a grin, “The elusive Casual Lassie makes a rare appearance. I should get my camera for documentation.”

Carlton glanced down at his attire and then shrugged, “It’s what I sleep in.”

“No three-piece pajama suit?”

Carlton looked at him silently a moment and Shawn could see him trying to decide if Shawn was joking. He started to say something else, maybe to assure Carlton it was a joke, but the words got lost as the sudden memory of those eyes staring at him while Eric was using the riding crop on him ran through his mind. He could honestly say he’d felt more pain in his life. Getting shot in the shoulder and then trying to hang onto the hood of a speeding vehicle definitely had the top spot in his personal pain-o-meter. But it had hurt plenty. Each time he forgot himself and tried to pull back, the pain sunk into his abdomen like liquid lava and almost made him throw up. And the whole time, he was completely aware of those eyes watching him, staring at a piece of his anatomy that should have remained private in a sane world.

Shawn knew Carlton had no choice in the matter. There really was no telling how far Eric would have gone if Carlton had refused to watch. The dark purple-black bruise that covered his jaw was proof enough of that. But knowing he was being watched, especially by someone he had been so attracted to for so long, in one of the most vulnerable positions he had ever been in, in his entire life had made him feel so ashamed he had literally been nauseous from it. And as he stared into those eyes now, that feeling returned in force, tightening his balls and sending a creeping red flush up his neck and across his cheeks. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t look someone in the eye and instead took his gaze back to the moving pictures on the television.

“Shawn?” Carlton asked.

His tone was concerned which meant he had noticed Shawn’s sudden, odd reaction.

Shawn just shook his head. He knew if he tried to say something his voice was going to tremble. He was on the verge of tears and wanted to kick himself for it. This was definitely _not_ how he was going to keep Carlton from feeling guilty.

“Shawn?” Carlton asked again.

Shawn heard the concern ratchet up a notch as Carlton started to stand up. He held his hand out, palm toward Carlton in a ‘stop’ gesture and said, “Don’t.”

The word was roughened by the tears he was fighting back and he heard Carlton’s motion pause, “What’s wrong?”

Shawn struggled for a moment before managing to say, “Nothing. Just…just give me a minute.”

He heard Carlton sit back down but could feel the older man’s gaze on him, watching him with that same concern that had been in his tone. Taking several deep breaths and releasing them slowly, Shawn was able to get himself under control again. He swallowed thickly as that damn lump that kept popping up in his throat finally went away again.

“So,” he said, glancing at Carlton and trying to allay the concern that he saw there, “What’s on the channel line-up for tonight? I think there’s a new Dog the Bounty Hunter on tonight.” He flashed Carlton a grin, knowing how he felt about bounty hunters.

He saw the concern slowly melt from Carlton’s expression, replaced with one of light indignation. It wasn’t as natural as normal, more like Carlton understood what Shawn was doing and was going to play along. For now, that was enough.

“Oh, please.” Carlton spat, “That long-haired, ego maniacal, jack-ass, piece of…”

“Woah, there, Lassiekins.” Shawn interrupted, his grin starting to feel more natural, “My delicate ears are highly sensitive to that kind of language. Besides, there’s a Back to the Future marathon on that starts in,” he glanced at his watch, “Ten minutes. And come on, who can resist that whole ‘get your damn hands off her’ line right?”

“Never seen it.” Carlton said, sipping his scotch, “There’s a great documentary on the Napoleonic Wars on the History channel.”

Shawn groaned, “Oh my god, Lassie. Napoleonic Wars? That was, like, _decades_ ago, man. Come on, live it up a little. Besides, Marty and Doc go back in time so, technically, it’s like a documentary!”

Carlton frowned, “That doesn’t make it a documentary, Shawn.”

“It’s about history.” Shawn countered, wondering just how far he could push this before getting Carlton to pop his cork.

“Just because movie characters go back in time doesn’t make the movie about history. Nor does it make it a documentary.”

“Tombstone was about history. _And_ it was a documentary. It was all about the shoot- out at the O.K. Corral.”

Carlton took a deep breath and Shawn fully expected his next words to be yelled. But they weren’t. In fact, they didn’t even come within a million miles of what Shawn expected. “I think I’m beginning to understand Gus a little bit better.”

For a moment, Shawn was completely flummoxed. Up to that point, he had been four or five rounds ahead of where the conversation actually was. But Carlton had come so far out of right field that Shawn felt like someone had kicked his brain into reverse direct from a sixty mile-an-hour run.

Carlton suddenly laughed. It was so honest and open, so completely un-Carlton-like that whatever response Shawn was going to formulate flittered away. For just a moment, Carlton looked so different that what he normally looked like. Even his eyes picked up on the laugh, sparkling like they usually only did when Carlton was discussing guns. Shawn grinned in spite of himself and said, “Laughter looks good on you, Lass. You should do it more often.”

“I don’t get to render you speechless very often.” Carlton replied, still chuckling.

Shawn floundered a moment, trying to think of a come-back, but he just wasn’t on top of his game. He knew the perfect come-back was out there, somewhere, floating in that snarky, ADHD addled part of his brain, but he couldn’t put his finger right on it and was too tire to try. So instead, he just said, “Come on, Lass. Let go a little bit and watch a trio of iconic movies with me.”

Carlton sipped his scotch and the grumped, “Alright, alright. We can watch the silly movies. But tomorrow night we’re watching that special on the Korean War weapons.”

“They made a documentary about gun they used in Korea?” Shawn asked, “Really? And you actually want to watch it?”

“Yes, I do.” Carlton replied, sounding quite firm.

“Okay, fine.” Shawn agreed, although he was half sure he would be able to change Carlton’s mind when the time came, “Where’s the remote?”

Carlton got up, retrieving the remote from the coffee table where it had been laying behind a stack of Gun and Ammo magazines. He handed it to Shawn quipping, “Psychic sense on the fritz?”

“The spirits are having a Harry Potter marathon.” Shawn quipped right back, “They put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.”

Carlton snorted as he returned to the recliner and sat down. Shawn turned the television to the right channel just in time to see Marty going into Doc’s house.

Watching a movie with Carlton turned out to be extremely quiet compared to watching one with Gus. Of course, for the most part, when they binged a movie series, they were never watching it for the first time so their constant flow of conversation didn’t preclude them from missing anything important. As this was Carlton’s first time through the iconic trilogy, Shawn chose not to voice any running commentary. Although he was quite surprised when Carlton blurted out, “Huey Lewis?” when Marty was being told his band was just ‘too darned loud’.

“Shut the front door.” Shawn said, “You know him on sight?”

Carlton didn’t respond, instead choosing to take a sip of his scotch as if that part of his character was embarrassing.

Shawn found himself covertly watching Carlton more than he was watching the television as Marty tried to assimilate himself into 1950s America. He relished in every nuance of Carlton outside of work. The Head Detective seemed relaxed, situated loose-limbed in the recliner. The subtle frown that seemed to be such an earmark of his working personality was replaced with a much more neutral expression that smoothed his features and seemed to take ages off of him. Shawn smiled to himself as he noted Carlton’s grip on the scotch glass tighten as Doc was trying to reconnect the power cord with the DeLorean streaking toward its rendezvous with the lightning bolt.

It was somewhere between the closing credits of the first movie and the opening credits of the second that Shawn fell asleep.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter went through about 8 re-writes and wound up going in a completely opposite direction than I had originally intended. But once I started down the path, it just flowed. I was very hesitant about it because I was afraid I stripped Lassie down a little too much making him appear too weak. But, I had my contact read it who has some experience in the some of the contexts in the story and they told me to not change it. So here it is. I hope everyone continues to enjoy the story.

Shawn awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Carlton moving around in the kitchen. At some point, Carlton had managed to slip a pillow under his head and had draped a light blanket over him. He hadn’t slept well, awaking several times in the throes of a nightmare he couldn’t quite remember. For several minutes he lay staring groggily across the room and listening to Carlton.

Just a week ago, Shawn would have given anything to find himself waking up in Carlton’s house after spending a night watching movies with him. The feelings he had for the older man had been a part of him for so long now. So long, in fact, it had outlasted any other romantic relationship he had ever had. Now, here he was, laying on Carlton’s couch and the fear that was surging through him had nothing to do with Eric or what Eric had done to him.

Carlton had been forced into admitting his feelings for Shawn and although Shawn was happy to know those feelings were there, the circumstances surrounding that admittance left him extremely worried that anything they tried to build together right now would be founded more on the circumstances than the actual feelings. He was terrified that when everything settled, Carlton was going to realize that Shawn was still Shawn and all those traits that made Carlton grind his teeth were still there and probably still annoying as hell to him.

He supposed at some point they should probably sit down and actually talk about what was happening between them. Shawn didn’t like talking, at least not talking that involved anything serious. Talking that just involved a floodgate of words that may or may not make sense when put together in a sentence was more his style. But he had matured since coming back home to Santa Barbara, as much as he hated to admit it, and that more mature part of him knew that conversation was going to have to take place sooner rather than later.

Sighing, he turned his mind to the delicious aroma of coffee and debated on just how badly he wanted a cup. The pain coming from his backside was minimal at the moment, but he knew as soon as he started moving and the skin started flexing it was going to crank up a few notches. Was the coffee worth the trouble?

He decided it was.

Rolling to his feet, managing to avoid anything that resembled a sitting position, he paused. The pain level did indeed ratchet up, but still stayed within a tolerable range. Stumbling forward, still a little groggy, he walked into the kitchen.

Carlton had two plates setting on the counter next to the stove already holding several strips of bacon and a slice of toast each. He was in the process of doling out scrambled eggs to each one when Shawn walked in. Shawn was somehow not surprised to find him dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, although he had forgone the jacket and was wearing his sueded bucks.

“Morning, Lassie.” Shawn said as he bee-lined for the coffee pot.

“Good morning.” Carlton said, “I was just about to call you for breakfast.”

Shawn pulled a coffee cup off the cup holder and filled it with the liquid gold, “You cook?”

He had intended to infuse the question with incredulous disbelief, but he was still tired and it came out sounding like a normal question.

“When I can.” Carlton replied, setting the now empty egg skillet in the sink.

Shawn took a sip of the coffee, relishing the warmth it tracked down as it made its way to his stomach.

“Where would you like to eat?” Carlton asked.

Shawn took another sip of the coffee and then set the cup down so he could hold out his hands, “Right here’s just perfect.”

Carlton handed him a plate and a fork and then after a moment of apparent hesitation sat down at the table with his own plate. Shawn took a bite of the scrambled eggs and said, “Wow. These are actually really good. I’m gonna start calling you Iron Chef Lassie.”

Carlton glanced up at him and that look was back on his face. The one that said he was trying to figure out if Shawn was joking.

“Legit, Lass.” Shawn assured him, “These are grade A, FDA approved excellence.”

“I’m glad you like them.” Carlton said a little dubiously.

Shawn found himself suddenly wondering if Carlton was ever complimented on things outside of his work. For that matter, did he even have a social life that would give anyone a chance to compliment him? Shawn knew he had been on a few dates over the years that actually lasted less than two hours, but he had never heard or saw during his little spying adventures, Carlton having any social life outside of the station.

For a moment, Shawn considered Carlton on a level he never really had before. He had always known the Head Detective was almost single-minded in his career path, almost to a fault. And he knew Carlton was awkward in normal social circumstances. Now he wondered how much of that personality had been formed during his time with Eric. Up to now, he had never seen Carlton as anything but strong and confident. And he still did, when it came to anything not involving personal relationships.

There was a knot that had formed in Shawn’s gut as he thought about these things. When the thoughts began to travel back to what Carlton must have suffered through at the hands of a masochistic psychopath, that knot twisted and for the first time in his life, he felt a pain travel directly to his heart. He had seen the Carlton that had lived back then. And he could only thank God that the Carlton that lived now had managed to overcome that old Carlton.

Suppressing an urge to wrap his arms around the older man, Shawn finished his breakfast and slid the empty plate into the sink.

“Hey, if it’s okay with you, I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He said.

Carlton looked up from his plate and nodded. “Okay. Towels and wash clothes are in the linen closet next to the toilet.”

Shawn flashed him a wide grin and headed towards the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you put the dressing back on. Remember doc said keep it covered for a few days.”

“Sure thing, Lassiebear.” Shawn called back over his shoulder.

Shawn walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Like the rest of Carlton’s house, the bathroom was nearly immaculate. Sliding open the shower door, Shawn turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to as hot as he could stand. After retrieving a towel and a wash cloth, which he hung over the top of the shower door, he slipped out of his shirt and sweats.

Facing away from the mirror, he twisted around, seeing himself for the first time since the attack. He couldn’t, for some reason, bring himself to think of it as rape. The bandages, mostly consisting of non-stick gauze pads and medical tape, covered a huge area of skin, but the skin that was visible was colored dark black and purple. Taking a deep breath in preparation, he grabbed an end to one of the tape strips and pulled. It didn’t stick but it surely wasn’t the most pleasant feeling in the world.

Within just a few moments, he had removed everything. He tried not to look at the damage. He didn’t want to see what it was as well as feel it, but he found his eyes tracing the criss-cossing lacerations and deep bruising without his consent. His own screams echoed in his head as memories flashed through like a lightening storm. His screams and the rifle-shot crack as leather connected with flesh, Carlton’s eyes steeped in emotions Shawn had never see there before; horror, guilt, pain, fear.…

It had been at that point, seeing all those emotions broiling in those eyes, that Shawn had felt something shift inside of him. In all the years Shawn had known him, Carlton had always been solid, never showing fear or insecurity. Of course, Shawn could always tell if was because he just got angrier and more determined. So, to see those raw emotions so visibly, made Shawn realize exactly how bad the situation was. And how very likely it was that Eric was going to be able to complete whatever masochistic plan he had put together.

Those thoughts had rocketed through his head in what seemed only a heartbeat. He had no idea how he could have had any kind of coherent thoughts with the breathtaking fire being applied to his backside. But they were there and his own fear had ratcheted up to a level he had never felt before. He actually hadn’t immediately realized Eric had stopped hitting him. He hadn’t actually realized it until he had heard a zipper. He had just enough time to register the alarmed horror that skittered across Carlton’s face and to see Eric shoving his pants down via the mirror when those fingers touched him.

The physical pain had been huge. The emotional pain, however, was what very nearly did him in.

Shawn tried to shut his mind down, tried to stop the memories, but he was caught in a place that felt too real, too raw. It was actually the shower steam that saved him. The moist, humid air surrounded him and he reached for that warmth from the coldness of that room with its concrete walls and floor. The steam gave him the bridge he needed to cross back from memory to reality. He left the coolness of that room, rousing to the steam-filled bathroom where the nearly scalding shower offered to try and wash that dirtiness off of him.

Roughly wiping the tears from his eyes, he stepped into the shower.

* * *

Carlton listened to the shower as he finished up the breakfast dishes. It seemed like it had been running for quite awhile now and he was starting to worry just a little bit. But, he reminded himself that he knew nothing about Shawn’s shower habits. He could very well just be one of those people that took extra long showers. Robert had taken long showers. Victoria had taken incredibly long showers, to the point he had to wait for hot water if he needed to shower after her. And really, if Shawn spent as much time and energy on his hygiene as he did his hair, he might be done by evening.

Beginning to rinse the dishes, Carlton decided if the water was still running when he got the dishes put away, he would go make sure everything was okay. He didn’t want Shawn to feel like Carlton was hovering over him, although there were moments when that’s exactly what Carlton wanted to do. Like last night when Shawn had turned away from him.

Carlton had seen the look of pure, unadulterated shame that had suddenly appeared on Shawn’s face. It sat so wrong on him. Carlton didn’t know where it had come from so quickly and he wanted so badly to go to him, but he had forced himself to stay in his chair when Shawn had spoken that single word, ‘Don’t’.

And so he didn’t, instead watching Shawn’s profile and waiting. Things had smoothed out after that, but Carlton had heard the struggle in his tone before the conversation had relaxed into a more natural rhythm. Natural for Shawn anyway. But Carlton couldn’t forget that look, nor could he forget the guilt that came from knowing he was the reason for it.

As he was drying his hands on the towel, the shower turned off and he breathed a small sigh of relief. He returned the towel to its proper place and gave Shawn a few minutes to dry off before he went and rapped gently on the door, “Shawn?”

“What’s up, Lassiefrass?” Shawn answered, sounding like he was in the middle of drying his hair with a towel.

“Just wondered if you were ready to put the bandages back on.”

There was a silence from the other side of the door that seemed to last much longer than it should have and Carlton’s mind suddenly flashed back to that moment when Shawn looked away from him again. He felt his gut twist sharply in that silence and he was just about to ask if he was okay when Shawn finally answered, “Almost. Just give me a sec.”

Carlton thought he heard a slight tremble in his voice, but it was so slight he had to question if it was really there or if he just imagined it due to his earlier thoughts about the night before. Moments later, the bathroom door opened, revealing Shawn dressed in his T-shirt and sweatpants. The sweatpants had been left partially down so his backside was open, but everything else was covered.

“All set.” Shawn chirped with one of this trademark grins.

But Carlton noted once again that the grin didn’t reach those hazel eyes. Those eyes were carefully guarded in a way Carlton had never seen before. He opted to not say anything. For some reason, he had a feeling that Shawn thought he was successfully hiding something as well as successfully hiding the _fact_ he was hiding something.

“Let me just grab some stuff.” Carlton said, opening the middle drawer on the left side of the sink.

He began setting out the first aid supplies he expected to use. Shawn watched him methodically setting stuff on the counter for a moment before saying, “That has got to be the most well stocked first aid drawer I’ve ever seen, Lassie.”

“You can never be too careful.” Carlton replied.

“I beg to differ.” Shawn shot back, “Just last week Gus thought he heard something during the Weekend Chiller Marathon and while he was prowling around the kitchen with a crucifix and a stake, I ate all his popcorn.”

Carlton paused a moment, trying to figure out what that had to do with being careful. Deciding it was just Shawn being Shawn, he shook his head and shut the drawer. He picked up the tube of triple-antibiotic ointment saying, “All set.”

Shawn turned, leaning against the counter. Carlton saw via the mirror that as he positioned himself, Shawn’s eyes closed tightly and his jaw muscles bunched as he clenched his teeth. Glancing down, Carlton saw Shawn’s white-knuckled grip on the counter.

“You good?” he asked, concerned.

Shawn nodded, “Aces.” But although his tone was still close to normal, he didn’t open his eyes or loosen his grip on the counter.

Carlton gently raised the hem of Shawn’s T-shirt so he wouldn’t get any of the antibiotic ointment on it and saw the flinching quiver that swept through the younger man’s muscles. He opened his mouth to ask him if he was sure he was okay, when his eyes landed on the skin he was getting ready to treat. His stomach took a nose-dive and his breath caught in his throat as he got his first solid view of the damage. Damage that was inflicted because of him.

For a moment, he was utterly paralyzed, unable to look away from the evidence of his failure. Tears suddenly stung his eyes as his chest tightened almost painfully around his heart. How could he have let this happen? _You know how_ his mind snapped _You’re weak and pathetic. You’re worthless._ Except the voice in his mind wasn’t his. It was Eric’s.

“Lassie?”

It took him a moment to realize Shawn was talking to him.

“Hey, you alright, buddy?” Shawn asked standing up and turning toward him.

Carlton tried to speak and found he couldn’t get anything past the constriction in his throat. How could Shawn even stand to be in the same house with him, let alone this tiny bathroom? How could he look at him as he was now with so much concern? So much compassion? Carlton knew he didn’t deserve any of that. He was weak and pathetic and useless and he had let this happen.

“No.” Shawn said suddenly, emphatic and quite firmly. “That’s bullshit and the Carlton I know would know that.”

Carlton blinked, surprised. For a moment, he thought Shawn really was psychic, but then he realized his thoughts hadn’t stayed in his head. Somehow the words had managed to slip past that blockage in his throat and spill out of his mouth.

“Shawn, I…” He floundered, unable to get the words out.

“How many criminals are behind bars right now because of you?” Shawn asked, hazel eyes steady on Carlton’s own eyes, “How many lives have you saved in your career? Hell, how many times have you saved _me_ , Lassie? That doesn’t sound very useless to me. You can’t let him destroy what you have become, man. He’s _not_ worth it.”

“He hurt you because of me.”

For several long moments Shawn was silent. He was contemplating something although Carlton wasn’t sure what.

Finally, Shawn took a deep breath and rested his hands on Carlton’s shoulders. His gaze was direct; piercing, as he said, “Yes, Carlton, he did hurt me. He hurt me and had his way with me and I can still feel him touching me and sometimes I just want to scream because I can still feel him _inside_ of me.” Shawn paused as his eyes began to glisten and when he continued, his voice wasn’t as steady as it had been. “But I’m not going to let him win, Carlton. And neither. Are. You.”

Carlton swallowed hard. He wanted to look away but found he was unable. The simple fact that Shawn had just called him ‘Carlton’, twice, brought those words home hard. But unlike a movie where that kind of speech would have caused the protagonist to instantly have his shit together, Carlton only felt bewildered and a little afraid.

“I don’t know how to stop him this time.” He said finally.

Shawn sighed and shrugged, “Neither do I. But Mom does.”

Carlton just hoped like hell Shawn was right.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, folks. It's been a little rough lately. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter completed sooner. Thanks for sticking with me.

After re-dressing Shawn, Carlton decided to take a shower himself so Shawn left the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and wandered into the kitchen. He felt exhausted, completely wrung out, and wanted nothing more than to lay back down on the couch and sleep. But even in that exhausted state, his mind wouldn’t quiet. It kept flashing back to Carlton’s face as he called himself those horrible, untrue things. The defeated look in his eyes was the same look Shawn had seen every time Eric had forced Carlton to look at him and was about as far from the primal rage that overtaken them when he had launched himself at Eric as Santa Barbara was from the moon.

Shawn had originally had no intention of admitting any of his issues to Carlton. But seeing that look, hearing those words…it was almost more than he could handle. He needed to let Carlton know that he wasn’t alone in this. Admitting those things had almost been a knee-jerk reaction, but it felt like the right thing to do.

A realization was slowly coming to him and the idea behind it seemed almost foreign to him. He had never really dealt with anything before in his entire life. He ran. But if they were gong to get through this, they were going to have to do it together. And Carlton needed to know Shawn had ever intention of being there with him to do it.

Absently running his hand through his hair, Shawn walked into the living room. He went over to the window and looked at the house next door. Its blank windows stared back at him and in the perfect recall of his memory he turned to find himself staring into the black muzzle of Eric’s gun. He shivered, forcing his gaze away from the house. He could not let himself go down that road.

His eyes fell on his knapsack that was still laying on the floor by the couch. In an effort to keep his thoughts from running away from him, he carefully leaned over and picked it up, setting it on the couch. He pulled his X-box out and began the mundane task of hooking it up to Carlton’s television. He was just finishing up when he heard the bathroom door open and Carlton walk into the bedroom.

Shawn went back into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator for something to drink. He found a Sprite tucked back behind a stack of Tupperwear and grabbed it. As he cracked it open, Carlton walked into the kitchen. He glanced at Shawn and said, “That’s been in there since New Year’s Eve.”

Shawn only hesitated a moment before taking a drink. “Seven months. I’ve drank older.”

“Don’t blame me if you get sick.”

“Soda doesn’t make you sick, just gassy.” Shawn replied and then looked over at Carlton dressed in a pair of slacks and a blue button-down shirt. He had forgone the tie and the top couple buttons of the shirt were undone. Other than that small discrepancy, he looked like he could be heading off to work. “You know, it just occurred to me that I’ve never seen you in a pair of jeans. Do you even own a pair?”

“I do.” Carlton said, “Two pair, as a matter of fact. I wear them when I’m working in the yard.”

“And what do I need to do to get you is said jeans?”

Completely deadpan, Carlton replied, “Weed the flower beds. Or mow the lawn. You can choose.”

Shawn was silent a moment. It was his turn to decide whether there was a joke in the air. To his credit, Carlton held his expression in world class poker style.

“I’ll put you in them while you’re sleeping.” Shawn exclaimed finally. He wasn’t going to admit he couldn’t get a reading on Carlton’s face so he went with this strength: Being obnoxious. “And then I’ll turn you into the Star Child from KISS and send pictures to everyone in your contact list so HA!”

“You know I sleep with a gun.” Carlton said as Shawn’s phone started ringing.

Shawn took his phone out of his pocket and slid his thumb across the screen to answer it as he said, “Aw, Lassiekins. You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“In a heartbeat.” Carlton shot back as Shawn put his phone to his ear saying, “Hello?”

“Hi, Goose.” His Mom’s voice reached him sounding slightly amused as she asked, “Why is Carlton threatening to shoot you?”

“Hi, Mom.” Shawn laughed, “Don’t mind him. Apparently, he doesn’t like KISS. Or at least the Star Child. Or maybe it’s just stars.” He glanced at Carlton who was staring at him, mouth ajar tin apparent flustered embarrassment, “Why do you hate stars, Lassie? They’re ambassadors of the sky.”

Mouth snapping shut, Carlton walked passed Shawn and into the living room. Shawn watched him go, wondering if it was smart or stupid to tease Carlton after everything that had happened.

“You’re hanging out with Carlton?” Madeleine asked.

There was nothing in her tone to suggest she was upset, or even surprised. Only inquisitive.

“Yeah, well, you know.” Shawn said, “He accosted me for my X-box and you know where my X-0box goes, I go.”

“Uh-huh.” Madeleine said, “I’ve heard that. Listen, my plane just landed. I need to stop and talk to your Dad for a little bit but I wondered if you would like to have lunch with me.”

Shawn was halfway to saying ‘yes’ before realizing lunch would probably entail a restaurant and chairs.

Before he could formulate a response, Madeleine continued, “I was going to come to your place but if you’re with Carlton I could come there instead.”

“No, that’s okay.” Shawn said. He wasn’t sure why he was averse to having lunch with his Mom _and_ Carlton. “I can meet you at my place.”

“You sure?” Madeleine asked.

“Yeah, yeah. What time?”

“How about one o’clock?”

“Okay. Sounds good, Mom.”

“Love you, Goose.”

“Love you too, Mom.” Shawn said and disconnected the call.

He walked into the living room where he found Carlton sitting in his recliner, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. Concerned, he reached out and laid his hand on Carlton’s shoulder, “Lassie? You okay? I was just messing with you.”

Carlton shook his head and leaned back. “No, Shawn. It’s not that. That was just you being you. I’m getting halfway immune.”

Carefully, Shawn lowered himself to his knees, wincing as the movement caused low-level discomfort to his backside. “Then what is it, Lass?”

“I didn’t think your Mom would be in contact so quickly.” Carlton said, staring at the ceiling, “I’m not ready.”

Shawn glanced down at his hands. He understood what Carlton was saying. He wasn’t even close to being ready himself. How was he supposed to help Carlton through it when he wasn’t even sure he could help himself through it?

“Listen, Lassie.” He said, “I know the job is everything for you. Being told you can’t go back until you’re cleared gives you no other focus. This is what’s going to get you back in the saddle. Besides, I’m the one that’s having lunch with her. You’ve got more breathing room yet.”

Carlton’s gaze lowered from the ceiling to meet Shawn’s, “You going to be okay?”

“Sure, yeah.” Shawn said with a wave of his hand. He hoped his false confidence sounded truer to Carlton that it did to himself, “I will need a favor though.”

Carlton seemed to study him a moment before asking, “What’s that?”

“A ride back to my place around one?”

“Sure. You, uh,” Carlton’s gaze dropped for just a second before finding Shawn’s eyes again, “You’re coming back after lunch?”  
“I’d like to.” Shawn replied.

An almost imperceptible relief swept across Carlton’s face and he nodded.

* * *

When Carlton pulled up to the curb in front of Shawn’s apartment at a quarter to one, Madeleine was already parked there in her rented Honda. Shawn got himself out of Carlton’s backseat and shut the door. Leaning down to peer through the open driver’s door window he said, “I’ll have Mom drop me back off at your place.”

“Okay.” Carlton said, “Sure your good?”

Shawn nodded and walked towards Madeleine’s rental, feeling Carlton’s eyes on him. The Honda’s driver side door opened as he approached and Madeleine got out, smiling as she wrapped her arms around Shawn. Shawn heard Carlton’s car pull away as he returned the hug.

“Goose.” Madeleine said, squeezing him tightly, “Oh, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Hi, Mom. How’ve you been?”

“Great.” She said, letting go of him, “Staying busy.”

“Well, come on in.” Shawn said, leading her into his apartment, “You want me to put some coffee on?”

“No, that’s okay. I mostly just wanted to sit and talk with you for a little bit.” Madeleine said as she walked into the kitchen.

Shawn followed her without saying anything. He watched as she set her purse on the table and opened the refrigerator.

“Shawn Spencer!” she exclaimed, looking at the contents, “When was the last time you cleaned this thing out?”

“Can I plead the second?” he asked.

“You have every right to bear arms.” She said, shutting the door, “You can’t plead the fifth on why your milk looks like cottage cheese and why there’s green things growing in your fruit bin.” She looked at him sharply.

“Hey, in my defense, I don’t eat here very much. I mostly eat with Gus at the office or at our favorite greasy spoon.” Shawn said, feeling like he was twelve years old under her withering stare.

“Order a pizza.” She said, “I’ll buy.”

“No, Mom, you don’t…”

“And get a large so you can take the left overs back to Carlton.”

Biting off the ‘yes, ma’am’ that tried to come out, Shawn grabbed his phone from his pocket and punched in the number to his favorite pizza place. After ordering the pizza, he pocket the phone and looked at Madeleine, who was leaning against the counter in front of the sink. Her face had already lost the at-wits-end mother look. She was instead, studying him with a clinical keenness that he recognized too well.

“Henry told me what happened.” She said.

“I know.” Shawn said with a sigh. “And I know you want to help me, but, Mom, I don’t think I can talk to you about this.”

“I don’t either.” Madeleine said, causing shock to roll through Shawn like and electric current.

“But…but then why are you here?” he asked, confused.

Madeleine smiled softly at him, “Because you’re my son and I needed to make sure you were okay.”

_But I’m not okay_ Shawn thought to himself. He said nothing, however, only continued to stare at her in confusion.

“I’ve contacted a friend of mine who has some experience in dealing with people who have eidetic memories like you. He’s agreed to see you and you will go to your appointments.”

He caught the veiled threat in her words but that wasn’t his concern at the moment. “What about Lassie?”

“I’ve agreed to see him. Since I did his last eval, I think it will be easier for him to talk to me rather that someone else.”

Her words triggered something in him and before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth, “How did you not catch that he was the victim of abuse, Mom?”

“Who said I didn’t?” Madeleine said, “What I didn’t know was his abuser was still in the picture.”

“God, he was so crazy, Mom.” Shawn said, “And Lassie,” he paused seeing that look on Carlton’s face again, “Lassie’s not supposed to be afraid of anything.” He said, his voice almost a whisper, “Somehow, Eric sent him back in time. Made him believe he’s worthless. Made him believe he’s the same person Eric brainwashed him into being.”

Shawn realized too late that both of his hands had balled into fists while he was talking and he felt the same anger he had felt watching Eric forcing Carlton to look at him while he told him everything was his fault. The anger was followed by helplessness that he couldn’t make Carlton forget Eric’s words, couldn’t make him believe in himself again.

“Shawn, look at me.” Madeleine said firmly. To Shawn’s surprise she was suddenly standing right in front of him and he had no idea how she had gotten there. “You need to breath, Shawn.”

He became aware that his entire body was taut, every muscle clenched as tightly as his hands. His breathing was shallow and fast and he was crying. Madeleine had taken one of his hands and put it on her chest. She was breathing in long, deep breaths and exhaling slowly. It was something she had done with him when he was a child and overwhelmed by something particularly upsetting that his eidetic memory wouldn’t let go of.

Closing his eyes, Shawn focused on matching his breathing with hers. His mind was a rat-trap of tangled thoughts and feelings. Thoughts of Eric. Thoughts of Carlton. Of himself. For several moments he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to control it, but eventually, he felt his breathing begin to fall into the same rhythm that was rising and falling under his hand.

When he felt himself calm, he stepped back, looking at Madeleine. He wanted to tell her everything was A-okay, hunky-dory. What came out instead was, “This is too hard, Mom. I don’t want Lassie worrying about me or feeling guilty because of what happened. But I’m barely holding on. I can’t let Eric win, but I’m terrified of him, but I hate him and if I could kill him again for what he did to Lassie, I would. I’ve never felt someone else’s pain like this, Mom.”

Madeleine smiled softly, “That’s what happens when you love someone, Shawn. You share their pain. But you also share their joy and their dreams and their hopes and fears. Right now, all you have is the pain. But you’ll get through that in time. Then you’ll understand the wonderful side of love too.”

Before he could stop himself, Shawn asked the question that had been haunting him, “What if we get through this and he realizes I’m still the same Shawn that he’s hated all these years?”

Madeleine tipped her head to the side in a questioning manner, “Are you sure it’s been hate?”

Shawn frowned as the question suddenly triggered something in his memory from shortly after he’d woken up in that room: Eric shoving Carlton’s head back, forcing the head detective to look at him and saying _You yell at him and push him around because it’s easier for you to do that than to admit any of those other feelings you have for him._

The doorbell rang and Madeleine left the kitchen, but Shawn barely noticed as he processed that statement again. Carlton had admitted Eric was right. That meant whatever feelings Carlton had for him and started before this whole mess had played out. So maybe, just maybe, Shawn really did have a shot at a lasting relationship. The idea both excited him and terrified him. Commitment terrified him. But, for the first time in his life, he felt like he wanted to face that fear.

Madeleine came back into the kitchen with the pizza and set it down on the table. It smelled delicious and he helped himself to a slice, leaning against the counter to eat it.

“So, who’s this friend of yours that shrinks heads like mine?” He asked in between mouthfuls of delicious cheesiness.

Madeleine, who had opted to find a plate for her pizza, stood next to him. She finished her current bit of pizza and said, “Doug Fletcher. I met him a seminar, oh probably, fifteen years ago now. His daughter has an eidetic memory. Since he was already in the field, he started to specialize in patients that have that particular issue. It’s actually a pretty rare phenomena. A lot of time eidetic memory is the result of brain trauma.”

“I knew Dad dropped me on my head when I was a baby!” Shawn exclaimed.

“You’re Father was afraid to hold you for the first month you were home.” Madeleine replied rolling her eyes. “Anyway, because it’s such a rare condition, Doug travels all over the United States to see his clients.”

“Wow.” Shawn said, “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

Madeleine nodded, “You’re first appointment with is tomorrow at 3.”

Shawn felt his brain screech to a sudden halt as it fixated on what Madeleine had just said. “Mom, I’m…I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“You’ll never be ready to talk about it, Goose.” She replied. Her tone was gentle but firm.

Shawn felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to run. To get away from Santa Barbara, from the memories, from his emotions. All of it. But he knew running wasn’t going to help. He remembered the fear that had built up inside him when he was alone in his apartment and how Carlton had made it better. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed Carlton right now. He remembered Carlton, sitting in his chair and looking at Shawn, asking so hesitantly if Shawn was coming back after his lunch and though maybe Carlton needed him right now too.

“So, where are you staying while you’re in town?” He asked, completely changing the subject. He didn’t’ want to talk about it anymore.

“Actually, your Father offered to let me stay at his place.” Madeleine said, “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, so it’ll save me on getting a hotel room.”

Shawn wasn’t sure how he felt about that but decided it wasn’t something he needed to, or want to, figure out at the moment.

The rest of their lunch was passed in casual conversation and then Madeleine drove Shawn back to Carlton’s.

“Don’t forget 3:00 tomorrow.” She said as Shawn got out of her car. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay.” Shawn sighted, shoulders slumping slightly.

He gave Madeleine a quick peck on the cheek and then headed into the house.


End file.
